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JuDD Mortimer Lewis 



LILTS O^ LOVE 



DEDICATION 

To Miss Bessie KiRBY, the season's bride. 

Because you are in love, and young 

And sweet and fair and t7'ue, 
All the love songs by -poets sung 

Might have been penned for you. 

And, so, to you I dedicate 

All that my -pen has penned 
Herein of love. May pleasure wait 

Down every path you wend. 

Not because you are young and true 

And fair, and skies above 
Are clear, I tune my song to you 

Because you are in love. 

Judd Mortimer Lewis. 



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THE DUST IS ON THE HIGHWAY 

AND ON THE SOUL O" ME. -PAGE 183. 




= BY == 

JuDD Mortimer Lewis 

AUTHOR OF "SING THE SOUTH- 




ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

DEARBORN MELVILL 



HOUSTON, TEXAS 

J. V. DEALT COMPANY 

1906 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

NOV 21 1306 

Copyright Entry 

cuss (X. XXc.,N0. 

/ 4^? ^ / > 
COPY B 




Copyrighted, 1906, by 

JuDD Mortimer Lewis 

Published, November, 1906 



CONTENTS 






PAGE 


Dedication ...... vii 


An Outrage 










1 


Present 










3 


When Fancy Wanderj 


■1 > 


; 






4 


More Than I Knew 










6 


Clover Perfume 










8 


Loving 










10 


Going 










13 


Fooled 










11 


Shadows . 










16 


Today 










17 


From Afar Off 










19 


Warm 'Em 










21 


The Hermit 










22 


Deaf 










24 


'Mary 










26 


The Only Way 










28 


Ages Ago . 










30 


TJnwasted 










32 



xii 


CONTENTS 








PAGE 


Woman's Wat 33 


Kitty's Going Home 








38 


Better .... 








40 


In the Fall 












41 


Love 












43 


Transferred 












44 


Sane 












46 


:\1AD 












49 


Old Paths 












51 


His Eival 












53 


Together 












54 


Lake View 












55 


Mooning 












57 


Adrift 












58 


But Don't Do It 










60 


A Disappointed Troubadour 






62 


If Souls Go Hand In Hand 






65 


Across the Whole World . 






67 


Recovered 








68 


Resolved 








70 


Moods 








72 


When Blue Eyes Fade 








74 


Unknown Islands 








76 


Youtpi 












79 



CONTENTS 






xiii 


PAGE 


Hearts 80 


Lent .... 




. 




82 


Lorelei .... 








84 


The First Courtship 








86 


Spring .... 








90 


A Specialist 








92 


Mistletoe 








94 


Hallie .... 








95 


Best 








97 


The Eeason 








99 


If ... . 








100 


Live Forever . 








102 


The Beaker of Love 








104 


The Sleighing Party 








106 


Your Kisses 








109 


The Mother-Tone . 








111 


Pictures of the Southlani 








112 


Angry 








114 


An Ideal Come True 








116 


About Her Neck 








118 


The Easter Girl 








120 


Even Then 








122 


Violets 








123 


This Means You 


• f 


•- ( 


^ 


125 



xiv CONTENTS 








PAGB 


Love's Bier 126 


Chrysanthemums 










128 


Delilah . 










129 


Just You . 










132 


Forestalled 










134 


Since I Kissed You 










135 


liOVE's Course . 










136 


Old Scenes 










138 


The Better Choice 










140 


Reaction . 










142 


Land or a Dream 










144 


Vampire Memory 










146 


Love 










148 


Oh, My Dearie 










149 


Heart o' Me 










151 


Enough 










153 


Love to Time . 










154 


Could You Guess? . 










156 


The Torrent's A^oice 


. 








158 


Love's Egotism 


. 








160 


Warm 


. 








161 


Unspoken 


. 








163 


When Life Was Worth While . 




. 


165 


All the World 










166 





CONTENTS 






XV 


PAGE 


'More Than All . . . . . igg 


The Heart of a Maid 






170 


A Toast .... 






172 


The Haven 








174 


Harking Back 








176 


An Idol Tale 








178 


Parting 








183 


At the Bars 








184 


The Amulet 








186 


Expansion's Pioneer 






191 


The Rainy Season 






194 


The Lure of Spring . 






196 


Orders .... 






198 


He Doesn't Know What For 






202 


Fancy and Memory . 






204 


To Today's Brie 


)E 






206 













AND IN ^OUR FIST 
A BUNCH OF CLOVER BLOOMS. 



AlSr OUTEAGE. 



White clover blooms, and roses red, 

And green leaves wet with dew, 
My teeny-weeny tonslehead, 

Are "biolets'^ to you; 
And so yon pick them right and left, 

And you seem loth to stop ; 
It seems to give you wondrous joy 

To pick "botays for pop/' 



You know that other, other day 

You toddled to my door. 
And called out : "Papa's baby's here," 

And stamped, and stamped the floor 
With your wee feet, to make me come 

And ope to let you in? 
I guess you have forgotten it ; 

I hope so. 'Twas a sin ! 

1 



LILTS 0' LOVE. 

And I sat still and read my book 

Until 3'ou quiet grew ; 
A story had me so absorbed 

I gave no thought to you ! 
And, when at last I oped my door, 

You lay between the rooms 
All fast asleep, and in your fist 

A bunch of clover blooms ! 



The tears were half dried on your cheeks ; 

You sighed, dear, as you slept; 
And, dear, remorse quite filled my heart, 

I knelt and could have wept ! 
I kissed you where you lay asleep 

With tear-stained face and sad, 
And in your sleep you gulped and sighed 

" 'Em's a botay for dad V' 



And if I do that way again, 

Dear baby mine, by you, 
When I knock 'on the pearly gates 

May Grod not let me through ! 
I'm glad you have forgotten it, 

And love your daddy yet; 
If I should live a thousand years 

I never will forget ! 



PEESENT. 



You're sitting on my chair arm now; 

You do not know it, do you? 
The golden curls about your brow 

Enchant me ; leaning to you 
I whisper of the ways we knew, 

The ways we walked together, 
Where marguerites and roses grew. 

And where were slopes of heather. 



You think we're miles' on miles apart, 

But you are perched beside me; 
We're sitting talking heart to heart ; 

However fate deride me 
I only need to close my eyes 

And fate cannot deny me 
The joy that in your presence lies ; 

You're straightway sitting by me. 



WHEN FANCY WANDERS. 

When the big hibiscus blossoms go to sleep, 
And the four-o'cl'ocks are nodding in the dew, 

Sweet memories thronging swiftly o'er the chords of 
fancy sweep, 
And I'm walking in the moonlight, dear, with you. 

When the drowsy morning-glories are in bed. 

And the night-bird's whistle croons across the lea. 

When the heat and all the worry of the dusty day have 
fled. 
Then, your little hands outstretched, you come to me. 

In the glory of the gloaming all alone. 

Hand in hand, our shadows stretching far away. 

In a world by love created, just a world that's all our 
own, 
Slow we wander where sweet blossoms nod and sway. 

Then I know no words of chiding shall be mine; 

Then my heart to your sweet heart may tell its tale. 
When my eyes look into your eyes and I see them glint 
and shine 

Till the very stars in heaven fade and pale. 

4 



[When Fancy Wanders] 5 

And I lead you to a valley of content, 

Where the heartsease nods and ripples down the slopes, 
And we wander off together where life's softest perfumes 
blent 

Whisper sweet a world of promise to my hopes. 

And the world just gets so small, so awful small. 

That only we are in it, just we two ! 
And the moonflower sways in beauty where the shafts of 
moonlight fall, 

And where I humbly kneel, sweetheart, to you. 

But the real world is big — so vast and wide — 
And you're so far away that hope grows weak ! 

Oh, I'd give my hopes of glory just to have you by my 
side. 
Just to clasp your little hands and hear you speak. 

But when four-o'clocks are nodding to the night, 
And the big hibiscus blossoms cease to shine. 

Then the glory of your coming fills my sad heart with 
delight, 
i'or whenever fancy wanders you are mine. 



MORE THAN I KNEW. 

Let the empty wagons clatter as they rattle down the 

street, 
Let the nature-lovers wander through whole miles of 

meadowsweet, 
I have got no eyes for nature, I have got no ears for 

song — 
Birds may sing their sweetest anthems, empty carts may 

bang along — 
I am leaning down above you where you're tossing to 

and fro — 
Oh, I always knew I loved you, but not that I loved 

you so! 

Let the nature-lovers wander through whole miles of 

meadowsweet. 
Out where buttercups and daisies and smooth pathways 

coax their feet; 
I have got my arms about you, got your hot cheek pressed 

to mine. 
And am gazing in the pain-dimmed, pleading eyes that 

used to shine. 
And I feel each racking trem'or that 'tis yours to feel 

and know — 
Oh, I always knew I loved you, but not that I loved 

you so! 

6 



[3fore Than 1 Knew] 7 

Every daytime I am with you ; and the whole long night- 
time through, 

When you're racked with pain, I'm weeping for the 
little I can do; 

And my heart goes out in feeling more than ever it litis 
done 

To the fathers and the mothers who have lost a little 
one; 

And I clasp you closer to me — I could never let you go ! 

Oh^ I always knew I loved you, but not that I loved 
you so! 

Snuggle down here to your daddy, dear, and try to go 

to sleep; 
No, you need not bother with your, "Pay the Lord I'ms 

soul to teep;" 
Snuggle down — I'll say it for you; just get well, dear 

heart, and we 
jWill go romping like we used to just as glad as we 

can be. 
And the roller skates you asked for shall be yours — 

now, by-o-lo; 
Dear, I always knew I loved you, but not that I loved 

you so. 



CLOVER PERFUME. 



There's a thrilling, tugging feeling 

On each heartstring that I know, 
There's a perfume in my nostrils 

From the fields of long ago, 
There's a vision in my memory 

Making all the world grow dim, 
Taking me away back yonder 

Where ^^us fellows'' used to swim. 



And the vision's central picture 

Is a laughing, blue-eyed maid 
Standing in the rippling shallows 

Where we used to go to wade ; 
I can see her pink toes gleaming 

In the rippling stream where she, 
With her skirts held safe from wetting, 

Laughs across the years to me. 

8 



[Clover Perfume] 



I can see the trees we climbed in, 

I can see the streams we fished, 
I can see the log we sat on 

In those old days, when we wished . 
That we two were grown-np people, 

Gone 'out in the world and far; 
Now, the greatest grief that haunts me 

Is the knowino^ that we are. 



I would rather be back yonder. 

Back 'neath childhood's skies of blue. 
Than to count my wealth in millions; 

If I could go dancing through 
That wee stream we loved to wade in, 

Climb the trees we used to climb, 
I would never v/ish to grow up; 

I'd be happy all the time. 



Comes the thrill along my heartstrings 

When the clover is in bloom; 
Then my nostrils catch the far-blown. 

Tantalizing, sweet perfume 
From the fields I used to romp in. 

And I hear a lilt of glee. 
And a maid, bare-footed, blue-eyed. 

Laughs across the years to me. 



LOVING. 



Oh, golden hair 

And eyes-o-blue, 
My heart goes throbbing 

A song to you, 
Whenever you come 

With your laugh of glee 
Within a city 

Block of me. 



Oh, eyes-o-blue 

And g'olden hair, 
My weary soul 

Drops every care, 
And lilts and sings 

As wild birds do, 
At the teentyest, 

Weontyest sight o' you. 

10 



[Loving] 11 

There's a dimple deep 

On each knuckle, dear, 
And my heart throbs glad 

Just to have you near; 
x4nd I hold the world 

In my arms all right 
When you snuggle down 

And say, "Daddy, night." 



When you snuggle down 

On your daddy's breast, 
And say, "^^Daddy, tell 

V/ho you love best,'' 
Then, oh, golden hair 

And eyes-o-blue, 
My heart goes throbbing 

A song to you. 



GOING. 



I am going home, am going where the clover perfumes 

blow, 
To the pasture lands of boyhood where contented cattle 

low; 
I am going, going, going where the sun of childhood 

shines. 
Home to hearken to the whisper of the wind among the 

pines. 



I am going, I am going to the happy lands of yore, 
To the little dormer chamber, and rag-carpets on the 

floor ; 
And the whippoorwdll's soft music shall bring back the 

old delight, 
And I'll feel the mother-kisses when I lay me do^vn at 



night. 



12 



[Going] It 

I am growing old, am aging, yet the world looks good 

to me; 
I am growing old, am aging, yet the world is full of 

glee, 
And my father and my mother keep the room I used to 

know 
For my coming, where 1 said my, "Now I lay me," long 

ago. 



I am going to take my babies to the home where I was 

bom. 
They shall clamber in the haymow, they shall hide 

amidst the corn. 
They shall wade the branch I waded, and at night shall 

climb the stairs 
To the little dormer chamber where their daddy said 

his prayers. 



They shall feel their mother's kisses, as their daddy long 

ago 
Felt the kisses of their grandma in the little room and 

low, 
And shall sleep the sleep of childhood till the morning 

sunlight shines. 
And they hear the waking whispers of the wind among 

the pines. 



FOOLED. 

You lie pinlc as the cloudlets 

That the springtime mornings spill, 
With a little rubber pacifier 

Keepin' of you still; 
An' you kick your pink heels at me, 

An' you goo-goo an' you sing. 
An' you couldn't be no gladder 

If you had the real thing. 
An' you gurgle at your daddy, 

An' you kick at him and goo, 
An' that rubber pacifier 

Seems a hearty meal to you. 

The world don't hold no other thing 

So sweet, I think, as you; 
And when you reach up to me. 

An' you gurgle an' you goo 
For your dad to stoop an' take you, 

Then I think you're mighty sweet. 
From your round, bald crown way down, to 

Your two kicking, dimpled feet; 
An' I never git done laughin^, 

Never have an' never will. 
At the rubber pacifier 

That's a-keepin' of you still. 

14 



[Fooled] 15 

It aint so much the things we've got 

That pleases us a lot, 
It's more the things we make ourselves 

Believe that we have got; 
An', babe, you aint no foolisher 

Than us grown-ups appear 
To the Lord way up in heaven 

When he looks at us down here; 
But I laugh until my head aches, 

An' I giggle, yes I do, 
Thinkin' how that little rubber 

Pacifier's foolin' you. 



SHADOWS. 



There's every shade of every faintest color, 

The roses hang down nodding, rich and red; 
Tall purple lilies hedge the paths, and yonder 

A saucy daisy nods its careless head ; 
And pink and green and heliotrope and amber 

Are spattered here and there and everywhere. 
And in the afterglow of the sun's setting 

All colors mixed seem drifting through the air. 



But when tonight the friendly moon is rising 

'Twill throw its shadows down atliv/art the ways, 
The ways we knew, the ways that knew our walking, 

And the tall poplars, standing in its rays, 
Will look the darker for the moon behind them, 

And the red rose will lose its color, too. 
And every bush and shrub will throw a shadow; 

There are but shadows where I walked with you. 



16 



TODAY. 



There is never a sigh for the years gone by, 

And never a fear of tomorrow; 
There's never a tear for the yesteryear, 

There's never a moment to borrow 
The least dismay for the coming day, 

For the day that is here is flying ; 
O'er wood and dale the shadows trail 

For the day that's dying, dying. 



Yonr hand in mine at the day's decline, 

Your eyes to mine uplifted, 
And face to face with a lilting pace, 

Be the clouds banked dark or rifted. 
We'll take our way through the glad today 

With hearts too glad for sighing; 
Oh, the time that's here is glad with cheer, 

Though the day be dying, dying. 

17 



18 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

When the morrows come will our hearts be glum, 

Our souls tug at their tether? 
Nay, nay, you'll be what you are to me. 

And still we'll walk together; 
When the ni'orrow springs from the womb of things 

Your heart shall make replying 
To mine the way that it does today, 

Today that is dying, dying. 



Oh, each yesteryear, it was full of cheer! 

And the skies that arched above you 
Eeflected shone in your eyes, my own; 

How I loved you ! How I love you ! 
But I can't recall the past at all. 

With its laughing, loving, sighing, 
I'm so happy, dear, in the day that's here. 

The day that is dying, dying. 



When the m'orrow comes and the wild bee hums 

In the old remembered way, dear, 
I'll hold your hand in my own, dear, and 

We'll love as we love today, dear. 
In the present time, while the glories climb, 

And the glad winds go a-f lying; 
Oh, tlie day that's here is our own day, dear, 

Let us love, for 'tis dying, dying. 



FEOM AFAR OFF. 



All sweatered, jacketed and warm. 

And red cheeked, to and fro, 
Fair fit to battle with the storm, 

Or rain or hail or snow, 
With roses blooming in your cheek. 
With brassie, niblick, and with cleek, 
And caddie, too, 
A-trailing you. 
The golf links now you seek. 



And I, who loved you when the sea 

Clasped your form fierce and bold. 
Feel the same rapture thrilling me, 

And over heath and wold 
I follow where you take your way ; 
Though I am very free to say 
I do not know 
A single blow 
Of golf, nor how to play. 

19 



20 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

But, oh, your caddie is so wee, 

And you do miss so much 
The whatyoucallit and the tee; 

I note the angry clutch 
You give the niblick, yes you do, 
When you do miss, and if you knew 
My love, Nannette, 
I know you'd let 
Me go along to swear for you. 



WARM ^EM. 

Lord, touch 'em up, 

Every growly one. 
Till they leave the shadders 

And seek the sun 
To bask in it 

While the minutes roll. 
Till it soaks way in 

An' delights their soul. 

Make 'em feel the sun 

Warm up their heart, 
Let 'em see the grass 

An' the blossoms start. 
Let 'em hear the birds 

In the ellum tree. 
An' make 'em glad 

As a man can be. 

Hold each broken heart 

In your hands, Lord, do. 
Till it's brave and strong. 

An' till joy shines through 
Its cockles and 

Warms every sad 
Old life on earth 

An' makes it glad. 

21 



THE HERMIT. 



Out of the north, wind's fury, 
Out of the rout and storm ; 

Snuggled within the cottage, 
Coiled in the ingle warm; 

How the old days obsess one ! 
How the old memories swarm ! 



How the old days obsess one; 

Flickers the flame up high; 
How the old loves caress one, 

Loves of the days gone by; 
And the corners are full of shadows 

And wraiths, that move and sigh. 



And the corners are full of shadows. 
And my eyes smart with the smoke. 

And a lump in my throat has risen 
And grown till I nearly choke ; 

And the dog that was crouched beside m« 
Has started and half awoke. 



[The Hermit] 28 

When tlie doors to the past swing open 
And days that I one time knew, 

And friends that made them happy 
With laugh and song, swarm through. 

It is then that the blood runs riot 
And warms as it used to do. 



How the old days ohsess one ! 

Ways all drenched with dew, 
A world rain-washed and glowing. 

Skies pink and azure blue, 
Bird calls that lilt and echo, 

And woods that coax and woo. 



The north wind shrieks in fury, 
The flickering flame leaps high. 

And the smoke, blown outward, eddiei 
And smarts and bedims the eye ; 

And out of the corner shadows 

Comes the wraith of a laugh and sigh. 



DEAF. 



Fame? Let her beckon 

And whistle and call ; 
I^m deaf, I can't hear it, 

Can't hear it at all ; 
A warm cottage ingle, 

My babies and you — 
What? Fame is still calling? 

Then let her halloo. 



What? Fame? Calling me? 

Go on with your chaff ! 
You're cosy as I am. 

And comfy, so laugh; 
And I will laugh with you ! 

My babies and you 
Drown Fame's loudest calls. 

So let her halloo. 

24 



[Deaf] 25 

What's Fame and her promise 

Besides you, dear, say? 
She sits at the top 

Of a ruggedy way, 
And becks ; but you're by me ! 

Then why should I climb? 
I've you and our babies 

Just all of the time. 



What? Fame is still calling? 

Let Fame do her worst ! 
It's just like a woman 

To hear the call first ! 
You want me to win her ? 

Lord love you ! You do ? 
Dear heart, let her go ! 

I've my babies and you ! 



MARY 



"]\Iary, Mary, Mary, Mary !" 

Hear the fieldlark call; 
"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary!" 
Shrill and over all 
Comes the mockbird's answer, ringing from the hill. 
"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary! " calls the whippoorwill. 



"Mary, Mary, Maiy, Mary!" 

Whispers every breeze; 
"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary!" 
Whisper back the trees; 
And the blossoms giggle when the breeze goes by, 
And they whisper, "Mary !" laughing to the sky. 



"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary!" 
Thus my heart beats, too; 
"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary!" 
Sings my soul to yon ; 
Forest, sky and river, and the booming sea ! 
All kTe singing, "Mary !" Singing it to me. 

26 



[Mary] 

"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary V 

All life's skies are blue ; 
"Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary !" 
How Fm loving you! 
But no answer finds me from the sky or sea; 
Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, are you loving me? 



THE ONLY WAY. 



If it is well that I sh'ould forget 

Youth's careless jests and the Only Girl, 
Then tender me never a cigarette 

And lighted match with its flame a-curl; 
And never a fragrant and rich cigar, 

And never tobacco-pouch and pipe; 
For nicotine and its ashes are 

The nursery where regrets grow ripe. 

And take me afar from cliff and sea, 

From where I can see the swift yachts skim, 
Lest the prospect whisper a name to me, 

And red lips smile from the years grown dim ; 
And smother the tone of the tinkling stream. 

And the sigh of the branches that dip above 
Where the ripples laugh as they run and gleam 

In the sun, and the wild birds sing of love. 

28 



[The Only Way] 29 

And lead me far from where mountains rise, 

Where the scarred old cliffs are gaunt and bare, 
And let — ah, let me not feast my eyes 

On the sunset colors that flutter there; 
And lead me far from the city park, 

If the edict be that I must forget. 
Where lagoons murmur across the dark. 

And poplar trees stand en silhouette. 



And shun the plains — shun the rolling plains- 

And the purple haze on the sky's far line, 
And the harrowed acres and waving grains. 

And banish night with its stars ashine; 
And banish fences and paths and walks. 

And banish palaces, churches, cots; 
And everywhere where remembrance stalks, 

And every bed of forgetmenots. 



Abolish heaven; abolish hell; 

And banish morning and noon and night; 
Or far in the region where spirits dwell 

I shall think of her and her eyes alight! 
Nay, never roll me a cigarette, 

Nor place my chair by an open grate. 
If it is best that I should forget. 

Then let the grave be the ultimate. 



AGES AGO. 



It is ages, and ages, and ages — 

Lord, Lord ! how the ages have flown — 
Since yon stood with your hand clasped in my hand ! 

And now I am all, all alone ! 
The mocking-bird sings in the moonlight 

The airs that it lilted of yore, 
But far are the wood-paths and yon, dear. 

And lone and deserted the shore. 



It is ages, and ages, and ages! 

How swift is the flying of time; 
The mind conjures paths that we knew, dear, 

Cool nooks and the hills we did climb ; 
But they are so far, far away, dear, 

So far dov/n the gTim long ago ! 
The mocking-bird lilts in the moonlight, 

But lone is the heart that you know. 



[Ages Ago] 31 

It is ages, and ages, and ages! 

The red canna flares out, and tips 
To me in the night; and the scarlet 

Reminds me, dear heart, of your lips — 
Though never I'm needing reminding — 

And, oh, but my spirits are low 
Since I kissed you good-bye, dear, and left you 

Long ages — a full week — ago ! 



UNWASTED. 

''Where you going? Where you going?" 

Asked the mockbird of her mate. 
Said her mate, "A pair of lovers 

Are a-spooning by the gate. 
And I\e got a song whose singing 

Will quite take them from their feet; 
Let me go and sing it to 'em, 

Let me make the scene complete/' 

"They won't hear you/'^ said the mockbird 

To her mate, "won't hear at all; 
You may fill the night with music, 

You may send your sweetest call 
Till it brimful fills the valley 

And wells upward to the sky, 
And they'll never, never hear it; 

Though perhaps you'd better try." 

Past life's strife and life's endeavor 

Sat a couple by the shore. 
And, her old hand held in his hand, 

Low they talked of days of yore; 
And he said, "Birds don't know music 

And can't sing these days, I guess, 
Like that mocking-bird sang to us 

On that night that you said, *Yes.' " 




THEN CREPT SHE BACK TO THE PLAYER. 



WOMAN'S WAY. 



Back beyond memory's finding, where floweth the broad 

Ho-ang-ho, 
Back of the mists of the ages, where the mind of a man 

may not go, 
There dwelt a beautiful maiden who gazed on her face 

in the tide ; 
Gazed at it, laughed to it, wondered ! gazed on herself 

wonder-eyed. 
^T^o !" said the maid, "I am fairer — fairer than lilies at 

dusk! 
Sweeter my breath than the lilies ! my tresses are sweeter 

than musk ! 
Smoother my shoulders and fairer than gods of the 

temple are fair; 
Brighter my eyes are and rarer than gems of Golconda 

are rare ! 
Round are my breasts as twin goblets a-brim with the 

whitest of snows ! 
Aye, I am graceful and curving, down from my head to 

my toes ! 



34 LILT8 0' LOVE. 

He who would dare to gaze on me, he v/ho hath courage 

to woo, 
Shall eat out his heart in the gazing ! shall bind up his 

brow with the rue ! 
Where is the mortal may win me ? AAHio hath the heart 

to aspire ? 
Him ! May his passion consume him ! His soul shrivel 

black in the fire ! 
I ? With the form of an angel, have I the soul of a bawd, 
That I should lie down with a mortal? I will be wooed 

by a god ! 
So have I spake, and my saying none but the gods shall 

gainsay !" 
Thus vowed the maid in her beauty. 



Soon came a mortal her way : 

He but a dreamer, a minstrel, seeking a theme for his 
song; 

Long gazed the youth on the maiden, drank of her sym- 
metry long; 

IJnslung his harp from his shoulder — softly the music 
^gan creep, 

Soft as a brocaded ribbon, broad as the river and deep ! 

Plaintive and sweet in its pleading, telling of love and 
its need ; 

Praying that though all unworthy yet might the maiden 
give heed ! 



[TTomaw's Way] 35 

But^ all unheeded, the singer, forgot in the song that 

he sings, 
Gives up his life in his wooing, beats out his sonl on 

the strings! 



Next came a hoarder of riches; wondrons the treasures 

he bore ! 
Shawls stiff with richness, and priceless ! rubies as ruddy 

as gore ! 
Naught spake the miser of loving ; he, the apostle of gold^ 
Spread out his gems for her choosing, spoke of his wealth 

manifold ! 
Sudden she slipped her kimona and, standing before him 

all bare, 
M'ocked, "Have 3^ou got midst your baubles a gem or a 

carving so fair ?'' 
Touched to his miserly heartstrings, mocked in the gold 

of his pride. 
He gazed on a gem that was priceless, wailed his impo- 
tence and died. 



And next came a wearer of weapons, a chieftain grown 

famous in war. 
With the mien of a Jove or an Odin ! The sinews 

and thews of a Thor! 



LILTS 0' LOYE. 



But the maid met his loving with laughter! laughed 
down his fierce pleadings outpoured ! 

Till, conquered, his soul beat for freedom ! He opened 
its way with his sword ! 



And then, to the banks of the river, came one — a poor 

shepherd of flocks; 
All ragged and scant was his tunic, all matted and 

tangled his locks; 
And small heed gave he to the maiden ; he formed hira 

a flute from a reed. 
And his music ran clear of the mountain, of crags where 

the wild chamois feed; 
And piqued by his lack of attention the maid went away 

from his side 
And wept in her pique and her anger; and only his 

pipings replied. 
Then crept she back to the player, the pride of her 

beauty all gone. 
And timid she plucked at his mantle; he pushed her 

aside and played on! 
"It was strange that a shepherd while minding his 

flocks by the broad Ho-ang-ho, 
And playing the tunes of his fancy, such strange inter- 
ruptions should know V 



[Woman^s Way] 37 

He scowled ; tossed his pipe in the river, but, e'er he had 

turned from the place, 
He looked his full scorn on the maiden; his palm left 

its mark on her face ! 
The man was a boor ! Never singer such act may ennoble 

or laud ! 
But the arms of the maiden enwrapped him ! she kissed 

him and called him her god ! 



^'^The moral?" 'Tis told in the telling. Its meaning 

is succinct and clear, 
And scarcely will bear the repeating. That man who 

hath ears let him hear. 



KITTY'S GOING HOME. 

Kitty is a pretty girl, Kitty is a witty girl, Kitty is a 
city girl, 

Kitty's going home; 
She'll recall in days to come how she heard the partridge 
drum, how she heard the crickets hum 
Evenings in the gloam. 
She'll remember Jack and Ned; she'll remember Will 
and Fred; she'll remember all they said; 
It would fill a tome; 
She'll remember winding lanes ; she'll remember waving 
grains — pity, pity all her swains, 
Kitty's going home. 

She will think of drooping boughs, she will dream of 
wild-eyed cows and of romps in country mow>s; 
Kitty's such a dear. 
She's somewhat of a coquette, laughing now, now in a 
pet, now with eyes tear-dimmed and wet; 
Laughter and a tear 
In her moods do come and go, swinging, swinging to 
and fro, singing loud or weeping low, 
Moods are very near, 
Near the surface, near her eyes, laughter, mockery, sur- 
mise to their limpid surface rise, 
Kitty is a dear. 



[Kitty^s Going Home] 39 

Let her dream of Jack and Ned, and remember Will 
and Fred, bless her curly, tousled head, 
Let her if she wills ; 
I've a notion I may be somewhere in her memory, that 
her thoughts will turn to me, 
As the country rills, 
Whether blocked by rock or fern, though they pause, 
forever turn where the ocean's billows yearn 
With their rushing hills — 
Turn to me and I'll be glad, for the summer's fun she's 
had, and they'd ought to — I'm her dad. 
And I pay her bills. 



BETTER. 

I think today is better 

Than the days we used to know; 
I like today's red ro'ses 

That about me bud and blow 
Better than I liked the blossoms 

That bloomed in the yesteryear; 
Better than the days off yonder 

Is the day that now is here. 

And far better than today is 

Will tomorrow be, to me; 
Cooler, sweeter will the shadows 

Spread themselves beneath the tree, 
And tomorrow's rose blush redder, 

Each bright petal dipped in dew; 
Aye, tomorrow wdll be better 

For 'twill bring me nearer you. 

Every dawn that tints the heavens 

Is more roseate than the last; 
Every day that finds me living 

Beats the other days just passed ; 
For it brings you nearer to me. 

And again, en silhouette, 
We shall see the poplars standing, 

You shall know I love you yet. 

40 



IN THE FALL. 

Now the corn is shocked and standin' in its dry and 
rustlin' rows, 

And all round 'em and between 'em the big yellow pun- 
kin glows, 

And you hear the click and clatter of the mowers in the 
wheat. 

And the goldenrod is clingin' round your knees, and un- 
der feet 

Blue foTgetmenots are smilin', just as sweet an' just as 
dear 

As they did when you first saw 'em in the springtime of 
the year ; 

And the world's all gold and glowin' to the heart an' 
soul an' eyes, 

And the whole earth seems a-changin' to corn bread an' 
punkin pies. 

It's the time o' year for dreamin'— to stretch out beside 

a stream 
Whexe the autumn breeze can find you, an' to dream an' 

dream an' dream; 
To gaze off across the stubble, to gaze off across the 

hill. 
Till the fadin' of the daylight wakes the lonesome whip- 

poorwill, 

41 



42 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

And to hear the breezes rustlin' in the standin' shocks 

of corn. 
And to gaze across the valley where the night is bein' 

born, 
And to hear the creek a-tinklin' of its low-toned lulla- 

byes, 
Whiii^ you're dreamin' of corn fritters an' of home-made 

punkin pies. 



Oh, the world don't git old never; every spring is like 

each one 
That you knov/ed away off yonder, when you'd swim aai' 

laugh an run 
With the very joy o' livin' ; an' each autumn is as gold, 
Aiad as plum chock-full of dreamin' as the ones you 

knowed of old; 
And the amber of the autumn seems to color all the air, 
And the girl you used to love so, with corn tassels in her 

hair, 
Is as young as what she then v/as, the same look is in her 

eyes. 
And her elbows are as dimpled when she rolls out crust 

for pies. 



LOVE. 

Love's a bunch of swaying daisies bound around with 

ribbons blue, 
Love's a peephole into heaven with you tip-toe looking 

through, 
Love's a jar of milk and honey in a fair, enchanted 

clime — 
You can drink from it forever and be thirsty all tlie 

time. 

Love's a world-big flower garden where are butterflies 

a-wing, 
Love's all forest aisles and shadows where enchanttd 

songsters sing. 
Love's a laughing, gooing baby with the sunshine on its 

hair. 
Love's a passport into heaven and a good-bye to all care. 

Love is God's own "Open Sesame" to the good things of 

the earth, 
Love is of all things created of the most transcendent 

worth, 
Love was bom of dew and moonlight in a far-off Eden 

night. 
Love is — love is — love is — love is — well, you bet that 

love's all right. 

43 



TRANSFERRED. 

The wind has come out of the north 

With a who'op and a wild halloo, 
And the rose has drooped on its stem and died, 
And the lilies are wilted, too; . 
But the red, red, red 
Of the rose that's dead 
Now blooms in the cheeks of you. 

And the lily the north wind grasped, 

So graceful and slim and tall. 
Has toppled down 'neath his harsh caress. 
Has died in his chilling thrall; 
But the graces rare 
Of the lily fair 
Are yours, you have got them all. 

Aye, the blossoms are withered all. 
And the vines hang dead, they do; 
The glories that waked to the morn's caress, 
Begemmed with the night-wind's dew ; 
But the rare, rare hue 
That the glories knew 
Now blooms in the eyes of you. 

44 



[Transferred] 45 

Aye, the beauty of every bloom, 
Of glory, and rose half blown, 
Of vine and petal and lily tall, 
Whatever, wherever grown; 
The graces fled. 
And the rose's red, 
I swear you have made your own. 



And the love that my heart erst held 

For meadows and skies of blue. 
For every bloom of heath and wold. 
Whatever its name or hue, 
For blooms struck dead. 
For graces fled. 
Still lives, but it's all for you. 



SANE. 



They're all of tliem crazy but you, dear, and me; 
They're scrambling to gather up riches, to see 
H'ow the world would appear from a high stack of pelf, 
And they sacrifice everything; sacrifice self, 
Sacrifice health, and their body and soul, 
And they rob and they cheat and they lie, just to roll 
Up a few more hard dollars ; how hard they will know 
When they're summoned to leave, and they drop them 
to go. 



They are all raving mad except you, dear, and me; 

Their dollars bar them out of pleasures that we 

Make an every-day part of 'Our lives, yours and mine; 

We ramble afield, and, where glory vines twine, 

We sit; and the river slips by at our feet, 

And your eyes laugh to mine, and I think, dear, how 

sweet 
The world is and you are, and, dear, I'm so glad 
That we see the world right and that we are not mad ! 

46 



[Stme] 47 

That we see the world right, dear ; the poplars are tall 
By a pool that we Imow of, and mocking-birds call 
From the shadows to us, and we call to them, too, 
And they scold ns and mock ns and make a to-do. 
As if they were furious ; their scolding then blends 
In a laugh and a whistle ; it's that v/ay with friends 
Who see the world right, as you do, dear, and me. 
And as the birds do from their perch in the tree. 



They say, "Money talks f why, its talk is a croak ! 
Does it laugh, does it sing, does it lilt, does it j'oke 
As the treasures we get out of life do, and sing 
Till the world seems dew-spangled and red blossoms 

swing 
Down low ? Does it comfort the stricken and ill ? 
Why, the song of the creek and the lone whippoorwill 
Is sweeter than anything money can buy ! 
They are all of them crazy except you and I ! 



Our treasures? Just yesterday we met a chap 
Who was down on his luck, and I gave him a slap 
On the shoulder, and you, dear, you gave him a smile, 
And he looked and he laughed, and the fight is worth 

while 
To that fellow today. Were we rich — had we thrown 
Him a dollar, by night-time the dollar were flown ; 



48 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

But the more he expends words of cheer the more then 
He gets in return, dear, to scatter again. 



I am rich — I have you — you are riches untold ! 

Oh, the sun glints and shines in the tendrils of gold 

That crown you, your eyes, they are glad, dear, and 

shine 
With wealth of affection and love into mine ! 
And I've health ! I am muscled and sinewed and strong ; 
And I've joy — I have you — and the world lilts along 
Till we just have to dance to keep pace with its glee ! 
There are few who are sane, dear, as you are and me. 



Let them treasure their dollars ! Their dollars are 

dross ! 
We know of a road where the apple trees toss 
Their branches to greet us; where poplars are tall. 
Where the mocking-birds out of perfumed shadows call, 
x4.nd we know of a path right across the lagoon, 
T'roni a nook that we know, right away to the moon ; 
And we know of a path down a bloom-bordered lane, 
And we love and are loved. Thank the Lord we are 

sane! 



MAD. 



When the morn drinks the dew that is hid in the cup 
Of each blossom that sways, and the daisies look np 
And nod to the sun, and the coxcomb and rose 
Nod good morning, and big purple glories unclose, 
And away — it seems somewhere away out of town — 
A wild bird is singing; its song filters down 
And fills up my soul, and the air all around 
Is as sweet as if honey were melted in sound 
And the universe filled with it up to the rim 
Of the horizon yonder, empurpled and dim ; 
Then a memory born of the blossoms and dew 
And the morning, comes to me and whispers of you. 



I touch the tall daisies a-sparkle with dew. 
And they lean to and from me and whisper; and you 
Seem a part of each one, and their leaves are as fair 
As your brow; and the witcherie born of your hair 
Enfolds me and holds me where tall roses nod 
V/hen the sun gilds the slopes where the tall goldenrod 

49 



50 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Is swaying and lilting, a-dip to each breeze, 

And the grass is grown wild and is up to one's knees. 

And the pink rose's petals the soft breezes tweak 

Are almost as velvety pink as your cheek ; 

And red roses are red as are rubies in dew — ■ 

But not red as the smiling red lips, dear, of you. 



If 'tis madness to think in the springtime and dew, 
And the brown, sun-parched noontime of summer, of 

you; 
To compare with your laugh every song of a bird, 
With your voice every whisper when branches are stirred 
By the South's perfumed breezes, then, dear, I am glad 
For this madness of loving — ^am glad I am mad ! 
For the birds' songs are sweeter, the torrent's far call 
Is sweeter and clearer and dearer, and all 
Of the world, dear, is changed, like a gem washed in 

dew, 
And heaven is nearer, dear, since I love you; 
For this madness of loving I'm thankful again, 
God bless you and keep you, and keep me insane ! 



OLD PATHS. 



When grapes are purpling on the vine 

And corn is being cut 
And purple morning-glories twine 

About each wayside hut, 
And pumpkins, red as ruddy gold, 

Are smiling in the sun — 
Ah, then I dream of days of old 

And streams that lilt and run. 



And dream of trees that giggle so 

In every tickling breeze 
They fairly shed their leaves, and go 

Stark naked; and the leas 
Of old come back, come back to me, 

A blossom-studded dream 
That ripples from me like a sea 

With every wave a-gleam. 

51 



LILTS 0' LOYE. 

I dream of paths that wind around 

And up and down a cliff; 
Of hands all sinewy and browned, 

And of a stream and skiff; 
And of where lake and river met, 

And of the skies of blue 
Eeflected, till I see them yet, 

And then I dream of you. 



Oh, ways of old, oh, days of gold, 

\An.ien every morn meant you; 
When each star-studded night was cold, 

Each morning bright and blue; 
And when the trees laughed in each breeze 

And shook their largess down. 
And grasses reached to clasp the knees. 

In fields afar from towm. 



Oh, paths that left the wimpling brook 

And climbed the precipice, 
Of many a turn and many a nook 

Where two might pause and kiss. 
You wend no more, no more for me 

Where wimpling streamlet gleams; 
With it you merge into the sea 

That laves the shores of dreams. 



HIS RIVAL. 



I used to have 

A loving wife, 
Whose joy was to 

Fill up my life 
With all things good; 

Who by my side 
Walked, loving, trnsting, 

Watchful-eyed, 
To minister to me — 

She did; 
And never scolded, 

Never chid ; 
But now — conceal my 

Grief I can't — 
She's gone and got 

A rubber plant. 



58 



TOGETHER. 

Oh, maiden fair, the world grows old, 
Oh, maiden fair, the winds blow cold, 
Oh, maid, give me your hands to hold. 

Let's never mind the weather. 
The tree-boughs may be gaunt and bare, 
But warmth is in your red-gold hair. 
And in your eyes — there's mischief there ! 

Let's live and laugh together ! 

Let's live and laugh together, maid. 
And walk life's ways all unafraid; 
Though cold the wind by wood and glade, 

No wintry circumstances 
Can bring a chill betwixt us two; 
Love makes all skies seem fair and blue, 
And blossoms nod begemmed with dew 

Beneath love's necromancies ! 

Oh, maid, the snow drifts high, you wis; 
Oh, maid, I hear the north wind hiss ; 
Oh, maid, give me your lips to kiss ! 

Let's brighten up the weather 
With love ! The leaves that gust and throng 
Shall be wee birds on wings of song; 
In rhythm life shall glide along 

While we twain love together, 

54 



LAKE VIEW. 



Lake View ! Lake View ! 

And all I knew 
Of fun and frolic, love and you. 

Comes back and stays 

Through all my ^days 

With me. And strays 
My memoiy far down ways we knew. 

Lake View ! Lake View ! 

And me and you, 
And never worry, never rue; 

The Neches flows. 

And the red rose 

Its leaves unclose 
Where erst I rode and rowed with you. 

Lake View ! Lake View ! 

Ah — ^well-a-day — 
No blossom-bordered happy way 

But has an end. 

But needs must blend 

With ways whose trend 
Is far, aye far, from song and play. 

55 



M LILTS 0' LOYE. 

Lake View ! Lake View ! 

And happy you ! 
Whose lilting laugh down ways we Imew 

Is with me yet ! 

Like jewel set 

In some rare fret 
Of treasured gold ! My heart's with yon ! 



MOONING. 

Have yon seen the moon shining the last night or two, 
As big as a pie and as beautifnl, too? 
Oh, say, did it bring a remembrance to you? 
Oh, the days of onr boyhood forever ! 

Oh, the moon through the willows ! the moon on the sea ! 
Oh, the lilt in your heart and the love-song of glee 
In yonr soul ! and the shadows beneath the tall tree ! 
Oh, the days of our boyhood forever ! 

Oh, the big harvest moon, and the deep purple sky, 
And the hand in your hand, and the soft little sigh. 
And the words that you whispered, and, oh, the reply ! 
Oh, the days of our boyhood forever! 

Oh, the days of our boyhood ! the light on the sea ! 
The path 'neath the trees, and the dew-begemmed lea ! 
And the mocking-bird somewhere as glad as can be ! 
Oh, the days of our boyhood forever. 

Oh, the moon-lighted nights, and the glory-rimmed brow 
Of the hill ! Glory be ! Don't your heart recall how— 
But that's telling — Oh, couldn't you snuggle her now ! 
Oh, the days of our boyhood forever ! 

57 



ADRIFT. 



I^d love to sit in a canoe 

And drift and drift and drift, 
Just only me and only you, 

Where waterlilies lift 
Their yellow-throated cups, and white 

They show against the green 
Of their huge leaves, and where the light 

Bathes' all the sylvan scene. 



I'd love to drift in a canoe 

With you beneath the moon, 
Where waterlilies catch tlie dew. 

And, far away, the loon 
Sends his weird cry through the still night, 

And where the forest tree 
Spreads its wide boughs, through which the light 

Would sift on you and me. 

58 



lAdrim 59 

Y'oai in the cushion-freighted bow, 

Me sitting at your feet ; 
To drift, and drift, and not allow 

One word to break the sweet, 
The more than sweet companionship 

That steeped our two souls through, 
And hear the ripples softly lip 

Our birchen-bark canoe. 



BUT DON'T DO IT. 



If you should die — 

If you should die tonight, 
I think I'd try— 

I know I would — to write 
A lilting, laughing, rippling song 
Whose every line should dance along, 
Whose every glimpse of sky was blue. 
Whose every vista to the view 
Was full of light, 

With shadows all put by, 
And starry-brigbt 

Should be the night-time sky; 
I'd write a lilting thing to you 
If you should die tonight. 



A lilting thing, 

I would, I'd write to j^ou ; 
One that should sing ! 

What though the tears bedew 
The page my pencil traced across ? 
I'd see the wind-stirred branches toss, 

60 



[But Don't Do It] 61 

Td. think of times we twain have had. 



rd think of you, so always glad, 
And I would know 

That it was Avell with you ; 
Where'er you go, 

There gladness shall go, too ; 
Living again the times we've had, 
Vd weave a song for you. 



A DISAPPOINTED TROUBADOUR. 



Were I an ancient troubadour, 

Whose wont it was to go and pour 

Beneath a latticed window high 

A lovelorn, passioned lullabye 

To some fair maid mediaeval, 

Who craned her head out through the wall 

To courage me, it would have been 

A joy, I think, to have sailed in 

And twanged the strings both fierce and long, 

And raised my voice in thrilling song ; 

To so cut loose from all restraint 

As would have blistered all the paint 

On that side of the castle, and 

Have made her reach her lily hand 

And toss me kisses on the wind. 

And cause the felines out behind 

The donjon to shut off their cries 

And listen me extemporize. 



[A Disappointed Troubadour] 63 

To've lifted up my voice and sung 

Until the very stars had swung 

All rhythmically into line 

And danced to every tune of mine ! • 

To just tear loose^ — loose every band — 

And open up, you understand, 

As if the whole wide world did hang 

On every quaver that I sang, 

And I must sing to send afar 

M^ voice where far-off islands are ! 

2\nd I could do it ; I could go, 

"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH V 

Until the whole wdde world should swim 

In melody up to the rim ! 

Inspired by beauty — beauty's eyes. 

And beauty's hair and hands and sighs — 

Oh, had I been a troubadour, 

I should have waked those days of yore. 

But — could I ? Maidens sweet, I wis, 
Til ose days were not like maids of this ; 
They did not, were not, could not be 
As sweet as maidens now who knee 
Tall, dew-wet, nodding blooms aside 
And wp.lk the meadows glorified' 
Ah, no,, I never could at all 
Have praised tlie maid mediaeval 



64 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

As I could praise maids of today, 
Whose laughing, lilting, joyous way 
Of taking life doth fairly sing 
Along my heart's each passioned string ! 
Rather the thought of maids to come 
My every accent had made dumb ; 
Till I had gone, despite love's sighs, 
And size and smiles, and coaxing eyes, 
And left sharps, quavers, and eke flats, 
To night's impassioned, prowling cats. 




A LAND ABLOOM 
AND A SWEET PERFUME 
|IN A WORLD THAT NE'ER GROWS OLD. 



IF SOULS GO HAND IN HAND. 



Eyes that are true and blue, 

And wind-stirred locks of gold, 

And a land a-bloom 

And a sweet perfume 

In a world that ne'er grows old ; 

And necklacing dimpled arms, 

And a love that knows no drouth, 

And the perfect bliss of a clinging kiss 

On a pouting and red-lipped mouth. 

Sweet songs of whippoorwills, 

And vales half hid in dark. 

And the silent hills. 

And the peaceful rills. 

And the fire-fly's moving spark; 

And the mockbird's midnight song 

Like a blessing from the South, 

x\nd always the charm of the necklaced arm^ 

And always the kiss on the nwuth. 

65 



66 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Two souls like censers swung 

Wliere naught may intervene, 

With no mountain chains 

And no rolling plains 

And no weary miles between; 

Through ages, and all the same, 

No North, East, West, or South; 

Just the hair's spun gold and the arm? to hold; 

The eyes and the red-lipped mouth. 



If souls go hand in hand. 

Through scenes those souls erst knew, 

Be it ours to go 

In a to-and-fro 

Where the skies of life arched blue ; 

Where the hills were our own hills. 

And their green slopes knew no drouth; 

Where no thing was old, and where locks were gold, 

And Love kissed a red-lipped mouth. 



ACROSS THE WHOLE WORLD. 



The dawn follows after the darkness of night, 
The birds sing in choruSj "The world is all right V 
And across the whole world on the morning's first light 
My soul to your soul calls, "Good m-orning !" 



The rainbow in beauty o^er-arches the sky, 
And we know by that token the storm has gone by. 
And along the bright rainbow across the blue slry 
My soul to your soul calls, "Good m'orning !" 



"Good morning V it calls, and the morning's first flush 
Grows pinker and warmer and softer, and, "Hush V 
A bird calls, then, clear as the note of the thrush, 
Your soul to my soul calls, "Good morning !" 



07 



RECOVERED. 



Since you're yovi, and yon are home, 

What is left for me to wish ? 
Throngh the umber-eolored gloam 

Comes tlie fron-frou and the swish 
And the perfume of your skirts ; 

And I hear the lilting glee 
Of your laugh ; your absence hurts 

Me no more since you're with me. 



You have had your summer fling 
In the mountains, by the shore; 

Time to use your eyes and string- 
Hearts, you siay, at least a score ; 

And from your gray eyes^ to me 
Flashes out a teasing glance; 

Ah, the summer and the sea ! 
Days of 3^outh and sweet romance ! 



{Recovered] 



I am jealous not at all, 

I presume I ought to be, 
Of the ones who happed to fall 

'i^eath your gra}^ eyes' witcherie, 
Of the man who tied your shoe, 

Him who held your parasol ; 
That's what they were there to do; 

I am jealous not at all. 



They have had their little day, 

Ah, my lissome lass and slim. 
Walked with you a little way, 

Taught you doubtless how to swim ; 
Now the frou-frou of your skirts 

Comes to me adown the hall ; 
It's your absence, dear, that hurts ! 

No'W I'm jealous not at all. 



RESOLVED. 



If I should die, 
I could not tie 

Your gaiters any more; 
If I should die, 
I could not hie 

With you down to the shore 
Where ripples run . 
Glad in the sun, 

And ^diere the billows roar. 



I could not go 

Where soft winds blow. 

Where boughs bend down and swing, 
With you, nor wend 
Where blossoms bend. 

And where the mockbirds sing; 
Nor could I love 
The skies above, 

Nor you, nor anything. 

70 



[Mesolved] 71 

Ah, me ! ah, me ! 
What could life be — 

I should have said, "what death — " 
We could not stroll 
To grassy knoll 

If death should stop my breath; 
There is no love, 
'Not maldng love, 

Beyond the walls of death. 



This being true — 
Me loving you 

Right now and always — I'll 
Live on, dear; I 
Will stay and tie 

Your gaiters, and will pile 
Soft cushions, too, 
Dear heart, for you. 

And live for quite a while. 



MOODS. 



You are angry because I have kissed your lips ; , 

You are angry for that, are you, maiden mine? 
See, yonder the moon in the ocean dips, 

And the spell of the breeze, perfumed with brine, 
Is saturating the soul of me. 

And my heart is a-throb with wild delight ! 
And you are angry ? You would not he, 

Could you, as I, see your charms tonig-ht. 



Could you, as I, see your eyes ashine ; 

Could you, las I, see your shoulders fair — ■ 
Dear, just the short moment your lips to mine, 

Dear, just the light touch of your wind-blown hair, 
Were worth all the anger that e'er has been. 

From now back, back to the earth's primal time ! 
For the maddening touch of your velvet skin. 

And your red, red lips, who would fear to climb? 

72 



[Moods] 73 

Would fear to climb ? Xot me ! not me ! 

I have heart to grasp what m}^ soul deems good ! 
The spell is not of the wind-tossed sea; 

The spell is not of the wind-stirred wood ; 
The spell is only of you, of you ! 

The sparkling eyes' and the lips apart ! 
The primal instinct to take and do 

What seems worth while to the panting heart. 



And that you are angry is joy to me ! 

I would not hav^e you a yielding thing ! 
The storm-flung, angry and wind-blown sea, 

Which lashes the rocks where the storm-flung cling, 
Holds more of joy than is in the tide 

That purrs and sings 'neath an even keel ; 
And I — I am glad you are angry-eyed, 

That you have a heart that is born to feel. 



I will tame you, too, 3'ou untamable one. 

Till your lips shall raise for my lips^ caress — 
And yet not tame you ; your blood shall run 

In a rioting mood that no m>an shall guess; 
For you are as changeable as the sea. 

Now min'or-smooth in its ebb and flow, 
Now wild, wind-chased, unleashed and free! 

And I am glad ! I would have you so ! 



WHEX BLUE EYES FADE. 



When blue eyes fade to ashen gray, 

And when the m'ockbird's roundelay 

Holds a sad quiver in its note, 

As though a sob were in his throat, 

Or in his heart, or in his soul ; 

Wlien huge and sad the rivers roll 

That now in sunlit ripples run, 

And when the clouds obscure the sun, 

And wdien care's wrinkles mark your brow, 

You^ll find me nearer you than now. 



You'll find me nearer you than now. 
When life's swift rush and rowdy-dow. 
And fortune beckoning us fleet, 
Doth sometimes take us from our feet ; 
When life's swift rush and lift and swing 
Make us impatient, and we fling, 
Perchance, a fretful word or frown. 
Or cast a tendered blossom down ; 
Beyond the rush and rowdy-dow, 
I will be nearer you than now. 

74 



[When Blue Eyes Fade] 75 

And I today am near to you ; 
Now, when your eyes are glad and blue; 
Now, when your lilting, laughing tone 
Eings loud, and you can walk alone ; 
'Now, in the lift and rush of things, 
When the glad song the mockbird sings 
Falls on your ear almost unheard. 
Because your soul sings like a bird, 
And all the world is fair to view ; 
Aye, dear, today I'm near to you. 



But yet I feel v/ithin my heart 

There will be days when tears will start 

From your blue eyes, and scalding fall, 

And when the mockbird's morning call 

Will hold a sobbing note and sad, 

And skies that now are blue and glad 

Be overcast, and you shall long 

For vanished face or silent song ; 

My love shall comfort you that day, 

When life's blue skies have turned to gray. 



UNKNOWN ISLANDS. 



Oh, ships are sailing southward^ and the Southern Cross 
is lifting 
Above the singing surges and lighting up the night ; 
Oh, live barks are sailing southward, and derelicts are 
drifting 
To where lagoons are waiting and are islands of de- 
light. 

Oh, I long to leave the prairies, the woodlands and the 
highlands, 
And drift, the world forgetting, across the shifting 
sea, 
Where lagoons are in the moonlight, and tobacco-grow- 
ing islands' 
Are breathing through the distance round the world 
and calling me. 



I long to vshed my garments and the civilization 

The centuries have added, a burden to my soul; 
Oh, to thread the shining reaches and to know the wild 
elation 
Of the unowned and unowning where tremendous bil- 
lows roll. 

76 



[UnJinoivn Islands'] 77 

Where islands lie like emeralds, and wondrous is their 
setting, 
The blue and purple glor^^ of the tropic skies and seas ; 
Oh, lands of love and dreaming ! Oli, world I^d be for- 
getting ! 
Oh, unknown blossoms flaming Against the boles of 
tropic trees ! 



Oh, unknown blossoms flaming — oh, unknown highways 
wending 
Through unknown groves and valleys, past where sing- 
ing streamlets run ! 
Oh, perfume of unknown spices on caressing breezes 
blending ! 
Oh, iridescent lizards lying basking in the ,sun ! 



There are lakes that lie like topaz in the midst of sunny 
islands ; 
There are trees, tall trees and slender, marshalled close 
along their brink ; 
There are silhouettes of mountains 'gainst the sky line, 
purple highlands; 
There are tunnels through the thickets where wild 
beasts come down to drink. 



78 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

There are golden strips of shingle 'twixt the forest and 
the water, 
Over which the lake and forest in their language call 
to each, 
Where some brown son of the wildwood softly woos some 
wildwood daughter 
In the old sweet way we wot of, just as faltering of 
speech. 



Oh, to cut loose and go drifting to tobacco-growing 
islands. 
Where big fire-flies are weaving figures on a yellow 
mist. 
Where the nights come perfume-freighted from the jun- 
gle-hidden highlands, 
Where are maids with lips like coral waiting, waiting 
to be kissed. 



Oh, the islands of our dreaming, where the days go by 
undated ! 
Oh, the laughing, brown-skinned maidens weaving 
garlands in the sun ! 
Oh, the soul cut loose from Mammon, with contentment 
saturated ! 
Oh, the naked brown-skinned babies where the purr- 
ing ripples run ! 



YOUTH. 

White and red roses and yellow, 

And purple tall lilies and fine, 
And air as sunshot and as mellow 

And bubbling and amber as wine, 
And breezes perfuming and singing 

A trope of the tropical South, 
And blossom-clad branches low-swinging. 

And kisses red-ripe to the mouth. 

Moms blue and azure and tinted 

With boldest and mellowest hues, 
And iskies arching broad and unstinted — 

Deep cobalt a-drench with rare dews — ^ 
And laughter and pleasure unbounded, 

And fields knowing torrents nor drouth. 
And life sans all corners, and rounded 

And sweet as a kiss on the mouth. 

Hands cool and slim to the holding. 

And thoughts all unuttered, but said 
Through eyes coaxing, gleeful and scolding,^ 

Or just in the poise of a head ; 
And hammocks inviting reclining. 

And lulling, warm winds of the South; 
A yellow-gold sun ever shining. 

And kisses red-ripe on the mouth. 



HEARTS. 



Say, wouldn't you love to be where I carved 

My name and 3^'our name, too. 
While my heart looked out of my eyes half starved 

For a smile and a look from you ? 
Say, wouldn't you like to be there again, 

Beneath the beech tree's shade. 
And laugh again as we both laughed then 

At the crooked hearts I made ? 



Two crooked hearts in a tangled skein, 

A scroll of my own design, 
So tangly, wrangly, it wasn't plain 

Which heart was yours or mine ; 
All that was plain was our names cut deep 

To the beech tree's sturdy heart ; 
But the hearts, so mixed with slash and sweep. 

They couldn't be told apart. 

80 



[Hearts] ^^ 

Oil, life was a joke that day for you, 

And life was a joke for me, 
And tlie hearts were a joke with the names carved 
through, 

And love was a shriek of glee ! 
And each looked into the eyes of each 

And laughed as glances met ; 
Oh, you and that day are beyond my reach, 

But my lips are smiling yet. 



It was such a joke, was the carven heart. 

Was the carven heart of you ; 
Oh, the tangly hearts no eye could part. 

With names of us both cut through ! 
But I think you sorted them wrong that day 

From out of the scroll's design ; 
Oh, you went your way, and I went my way. 

But I feel that you took mine. 



LENT 



I met her on the thoroughfare, 

Sweet Libbie^ and I paused to stare ; 

Her eyes were downcast, looks demure — ■ 

I looked again to just be sure 

That it was Liebschen, sure enough; 

Her golden locks had lost their fluff ; 

There were no ribbons in her gown ; 

Her face was sm'ooth, sans smile, sans frown, 

And so I gazed in wonderment. 

And then remembered, "It is Lent.'^ 



And then I cliuckled ; it did seem 

As if a dancing, laughing gleam 

Of yellow sunshine had essayed 

For just a while to masquerade 

As shadow ; all these thoughts did chase 

Across my mind; but Libbie/s face 

Showed not a trace of consciousness 

That I was there ; it did express 

A mind on inward thought intent, 

And I remembered, "It is Lent." 

82 



ILentI 83 

And though the wild birds carolled shrill. 

And though the branches whispered still, 

And though the bees hummed, and the day 

Was worth a lilting roundelay. 

So sweet it was with every wile 

The spring doth bring, the velvet pile 

Of the new grasses, and perfumes 

Of all the vari-colored blooms. 

She paced along, sedate, intent 

On inward thoughts, for it was Lent. 



The little rascal ! Pink and white. 

And fairly bubbling with delight 

And joy, to go in such a guise 1 

All smooth of hair, downcast of eyes, 

In plainest garb, bereft of frill, 

It was as if a whippoorwill 

Had tuned its note of joy and love 

To imitate the mourning-dove. 

Libbie sedate ! By George, I think 

She looked just then! Was that a wink? 



LORELEI. 



Yes, it's you, you, you, 

1 jke a lily weighed with dew. 

Like a graceful, swaying willow 
That the wind has paused to woo ; 

Sinuous and tall and slim, 

Lips apart and eyes grown dim, 
Gently swaying, now to meet me, 

Now beyond possession's rim. 



Oh, it's me, me, me. 

Reaching, reaching out to thee ! 
Daring depths no thought may fathom, 

Whilst your lips, a-curve with glee, 
Coax and mock and lure me down 
Where my soul would gasp and drown ! 

Oh, your eyes and your perfections ! 
Coaxing lips, repelling frown ! 

84 



[Lorelei] 85 

Oh, it's cool, oo'ol, cool, 

Is the shaded wayside pool. 
And the path beneath the forests. 

Where contented lovers drool; 
I would rather your replies 
And the fencing of your eyes, 

And your swaying to and from me — 
From and to — in luring wise. 



Let them kiss, kiss, kiss, 

With their counterfeit of bliss. 

There's a keener, deeper pleasure 
In pursuing joy like this, 

When joy pauses, turns and flies, 

Hesitates, and stops and sighs ! 

When your lips pout, and your lashes 

Hide the devil in your eyes. 



THE FIRST COURTSHIP. 



When the world was as maids are for sweetness, 

And strange rivers rolled down to strange seas, 
And when trees were imscarred by the woodman, 

And blossoms waved high :as the knees 
Of a tall man, and ever and ever 

The smooth monotone of the tide 
Sang softly by morn and by evening, 

And the voices of breezes replied, 
And never a sailing ship breasted 

The waves of the ocean, nor clave 
Tlie green, rolling breast of the billows 

The steamship ; and never the wave 
Upbore the huge rafts of the loggers, 

Such as the St. Lawrence brings down. 
Or Puget Sound gives the Pacific 

For the mills of coast hamlet and town. 
Was born a strange monster and hairy. 

With wild eyes the coverts to scan, 
As tall and erect as a pine was ; 

And it grimaced and said, "I^m a man !" 

86 



[The First Courtship] 87 

At about the same time, by a streamlet, 

As day pusihed the covers of night 
Back off from the world and stood blushing 

And rubbing its eyes in the light, 
A copse where dogwoods were in blossom. 

And jasmine and roses were wet 
With the crystalline dews of tlie morning. 

And poppies and sweet mignonette. 
And violets, cosmos, and lilies, 

And trumpet blooms, snuggled and hid. 
Stirred and shook till the dew in the blossoms 

Came down like a largess and hid 
The grasses with gems all a-sparkle. 

And stepped from the covert a fay 
V/ith eyes the same hue as the skies were, 

Vv^ith skin e^en as white as the day ! 
And springily stepped to the streamlet. 

And saw there reflected each curl, 
And smiled with red lips upward curving. 

And said, "I declare ! I'm a girl !" 



Then the girl, with a graceful abandon, 

Sat on a huge rock by the tide, 
With some thorns she had broke from a shrub near. 

In a neat little pile by her side, 



LILTS 0' LOVE. 

And caught in her white hands her tresses 

And gave tliem a pat and a, twist, 
And viewed the result in the water, 

And pressed her red lips all unkissed, 
And pouted and laughed and kept trying, 

And paused — tired — and paused just to scold ; 
But the ringlets would know no confining, 

And tumbled in cascades of gold 
Down over her shoulders uncovered 

And kissed every dimple, and flung 
On each wee little breeze that was passing; 

And the girl splashed the water and sung 
Till the woodland re-echoed her singing, 

And the hills caught each cadence and threw* 
It back and abroad, till the morning 

Seemed softly dissolving in dew. 



And then there stepped down through the morning 

The man, and all wary his pace! 
And he bore a big stick on his shoulder ! 

And out of the hair on his face 
Gazed his wild eyes, half daring, half frightened ! 

And soft, through the pebble and scrub, 
He sneaked dov/n to where she sat singing. 

And felled her to earth with the club ! 



[The First Courtship] 89 

Then quick faced about and stood sjiarling 

Defensively over his prize ! 
With the lust of desire and of battle 

As red as red coals in his eyes ! 
Then, no other claiming the maiden, 

He stooped and up-bore her and drave 
Through thorn bush and hindering thicket 

Till he reached his lone den in a cave ; 
And she, coming to, gazed upon him 

And smiled, and cooed, "Why, it^s a man !"* 
And loved him for all that his courtship 

Was on the aboriginal plan. 

*She also said, "And I'll bet my hair looks just hor- 
nd." 



SPRING. 

^Tis time to sing the girl of spring ; 

Sing, singj with voice impassioned, 
The golden hair, the features fair, 

The fonii divinely fashioned ! 
The girl of smiles and witching wiles. 

Of dainty frills and laces. 
And waists of criss-cross dainty threads 

Dividing open spaces. 

The filmy frocked. 

The stocking-clocked. 
The bahy ribbon showing; 

The wind-blo'^\Ti hair. 

The features fair 
And fresh and sweet and glowing. 

Oh, rise and sing the girl of spring — 

Or girls — there's many of her — 
The deep, deep eyes, wherein there lies 

The blue of skies above her; 
Her smiling lips, the glance she tips 

Across her filmy shoulder, 
And each wee curl that in its whorl 

Ensnares each rash beholder. 

90 



[Spring] 91 

The laughing one. 

The chaffing one, 
Bom of the glad birds' sing-time ! 

The filmy frocked, 

Be-laced and clocked, 
Enchanting girl of spring-time. 



Oh, apple blooms shed rare perfumes, 

And morning-glories tempt one; 
But marguerite nor blossom sweet 

Can woo one or exempt one 
From loving her ; the winds may purr 

Acro'ss the fields of clover. 
But still we sing the girl of spring. 

The skies that arch her over. 



The girl of spring ! 

The filmy thing ! 
The cloclvcd and peek-a-boo girl ! 

The young and fair 

With wind-blown hair, 
The dainty me-and-you girl. 



A SPECIALIST. 



Each of your kisses is sweet to me 

As a carameled grape is sweet, 
And your laugh — your lilting laugh and free — 

Is a silvery, heaven-sent treat; 
And, though I'm not a chiropodist, 

Still, darling, I'm at your feet ! 
I would not be a chiropodist. 

But still I am at your feet. 



Your hands are cool as the moms are cool, 

Fresh cooled by the midnight dew ! 
Your eyes — ah, each is a limpid pool, 

A pool of cerulean hue ! 
And, though I am not an oculist, 

I would look in the eyes o' you ! 
Indeed, I am not an oculist. 

But I'm loving the eyes of you. 

92 



[A Specialist] 93 

Your lips are as red as a rose is red ! 

Your tresses escape their bands. 
And are truant ringlets about your head 

And about your restoring hands ! 
I^m not doing a manicuring stunt, 

But, darling, I love your hands ! 
No, manicuring is not my stunt. 

But gladly I'd hold your hands. 



No manicurist, chiropodist, 

Nor oculist, dear, am I; 
My specialty's loving you, dear, you wist. 

Just loving you till I die ! 
Your lips, your hands, your golden hair, 

The laugh in your twinkling eye ! 
I'm a specialist, dear; my specialty 

Is loving you till I die. 



MISTLETOE. 

Weave the mistletoe and bolly 
In the dancing locks of Polly ; 
Do a rag-time dance and jolly; 

Banish care ! 
Kiss the lips of Jen and Molly, 
Clasp the dimpled chin of Dolly, 
And of Polly — laughing Polly — 

Oh, beware ! 

'Neath the white and scarlet berry 
Touch the Incious lips of Mary, 
Mary, Mary, quite contrary. 

Don't you know ? 
Tune your voice up and be merry. 
Life's a white and scarlet berry, 
Christmas is a glad time, very ! 

Don't be slow ! 

Wreathe the mistletoe and holly, 
Clasp the dimpled hand of Polly, 
Bend and kiss the lips of Molly, 

Banish woe! 
Clasp the yielding waist of Dolly, 
Catch the dancing, twinkling Polly ! 
Folly is a mark each jolly 

Miss'll toe. 

94 



HALLIE. 



Wee and winsome Hallie, life's a winding valley, 

And the shadows rally at its every turn, 
And the way gets dreary ; sometimes, dear, we weary, 

And our eyes are teary, and 'Our eyelids burn ; 
But the shadows lighten, and the straight ways brighten, 

And the tall peaks whiten and reflect the day. 
And the birds are singing where green boughs are swing- 
ing, 

And dew-drops are clinging all along the way. 



So, if shadows rally in the winding valley. 

It is yours to sally through them to the light ; 
Ne'er to Fate replying, never stopping, sighing, 

With no time for crying, never ceasing flight; 
Hope's a goblet brimming ; troubles, merely skimming 

O'er its draught, undimming, add a zest to life ; 
We were driven cattle if life knew no battle, 

Only play and prattle, never strain and strife. 

95 



96 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

But, dear, may your going be where zephyrs blowing 

Bring the far-off lowing of the herded cows ; 
Bring the sweet perfuming from white jasmine bloom- 
ing, 
And the bumble's booming till you're half a-drowse ; 
May the goblet's quaffing fill your soul with laughing; 
Laughing, quaffing, chaffing, may you drain the 
bowl; 
May your brown eyes brighten, ne'er see aught ^o 
frighten ; 
May life's ways all lighten for you, bless your soul ! 







IM 
















ntv^'rV 






4 '^ " 




//^/►.^ 



AH, WELL FOR THE MAN WHO CAN WANDER THROUGH 
FOREVER, THE WAYS THAT HIS BOYHOOD KNEW. 



BEST. 

Ah, well for the man who can wander through, 
Forever, the ways that his boyhood knew ; 
Who after the years can sit and dream, 
In an old-time nook by an old-time stream, 
Of his boyhood days, and the ways he knew 
When the world was young and the skies were bine ; 
And can hear the whippoorwill again 
Send its call afar as it sent it then, 
And can sink to sleep in the same old room 
That smelled of the pine's far-blown perfume ; 
In the same white bed that was made for him 
Way back in the years that are growing dim. 

Ah, well for the man who can pass away 
Life's resting-time where the yesterday 
Heard his whistle shrill, with its lilt of joy 
As sweet — as the soul of a barefoot boy 
From its holding chamber had been unbound 
And had steeped the world in a wave of sound; 

97 



1 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

Who can go the v^^a^^s that his father knew, 

And the paths that his own feet wandered through 

In the old^ old days now far and dim 

When the world seemed a bubble just blown for him ; 

And life was a bubbling drink and clear 

Of tinkling song in the yesteryear. 

Who can go alone down the pathways dim 
Where he walked with a maid who loved but him, 
W^hen the purple, starlit skies above 
Seemed full of voices attuned to love ; 
Who can go alone o'er the meadow hill 
In the evening's hush, when the whippoorwill 
Sings its saddest songs, and can pause beside 
The ones who loved him — the 'ones who died 
When he was young, in a world unknown; 
Who kissed him and went on their way — alone. 
When the blood runs slow it is well to rest 
By the graves of those who have loved us best. 



THE REASOi^. 

Hazy in the valleys. 
Sunshine on the hills, 

Moekin' -birds o' dajrtimes, 
Nights the whippoorwills. 

Green leaves in tlie springtime, 
Bare trees in the fall ; 

Spring the singin' plowman, 
Fall the hnnter^s call. 

Summer nights the light-bugs, 
Winters just the moon, 

And the world a-swingin' 
Always right in tune. 

Winter, spring and summer, 

Falltime, too, to me. 
Wear a sort o^ glory 

No one else kin see. 

Everything's a weavin^ 

Like a poem, too, 
^Cause I know you're lovin' me 

And I'm lovin' you. 

99 
LOf C. 



IF. 



Oh, the ways we used to know, 
Shady walks of long ago, 
Lovers^ lanes I've walked with you, 
Eyes and skies of wondrous blue. 
Boulders in the torrent's path. 
Where we dared the water's wrath, 
Where we watched the urchins swim, 
In the days that won't grow dim. 

Happy ? I was happy then ! 
But if I could go again 
Down those ways with you, and stand 
On the cliff's edge hand in hand 
Where we stood, or take our way 
Where the torrent's silver spray 
Hung in jewels from each bough, 
I'd be twice as happy now. 

100 



[If] 101 

I don't think we're ever quite 
As soul full of rare delight 
As we can he; there is room 
Always for a little gloom 
To add paithos to a smile ; 
Just a thought of afterwhile. 
We're not — or it seems to me — 
Ever glad as we can he. 



But, I think if 3'''0U and I 
Stood beneath the same blue sky, 
Or were walking once again 
Through the laughing, glinting rain, 
Or were on the grass-clad knoll. 
Heart to heart and soul to soul. 
Or if you were here with me, 
I'd be glad as I could be. 



LIVE FOREVER. 



Jasmine and blood-red roses. 

And the perfumed night, dew-wet; 
And here yellow cosmos poses, 

And there are the cannas set; 
And here is a tuberose growing ; 

But the tuberose speaks to me 
Of a world-freed soul's outgoing, 

Of a love's Gethsemane. 



Of a one all care-free sleeping 

In a shroud austere and white, 
Of a low, heart-wrenching weeping 

That burdens the silent night; 
Of hands relaxed and lying 

On an unresponsive breast ; 
Of the light of a lifetime dying, 

As day dies in the west. 

. 102 



[Live Forever] 103 

"And here is a tuberose growing — " 

As white on its stem and high 
As a God-lit torch all glowing 

To light in the passing by 
The outward spirit ; bending 

And wafting its faint perfume, 
Like God's own promise blending 

Its sweetness with tlie gloom. 



And here — ^why, it's live-forever! 

And violets hiding, too ! 
There's never a "never ! never ! — " 

Can come betwixt me and you. 
The first of our souls upwinging 

Shall wait, while the years unfold, 
The soul of its mate upspringing. 

And live until time grows old. 



THE BEAKER OF LOVE. 



Who drinks of the cup lives forever; 'who quaffs of its 

strength may not die; 
For the soul is born out of the drinking, and, swift as a 

glance of the eye, 
That mortal who drinks, in the qiiaffimg, becomes as a 

god and as strong, 
And time shall not vanquish him ever, nor death liiuh 

the lilt of his song; 
And she who shall lift up the beaker with him and shiill 

quaff its last drop, 
Whose red lips shall sip at its contents, whose eyes beam 

on him o^er the top, 
Like his, shall her soul in the drinking be born, and it 

never shall die; 
Be bom in the goblet's deep quaffing, be born in the 

glance of his eye ; 
And what if her eyes be of azure, or of black, or of topaz, 

or brown, 
Or yellow, or jade, or as opal, as changing as dee])s 

where men drown 
In the tides of tlie unsounded ocean, as soft as the dream 

of a sigh, 
He who quaffs of the cup is immortal : who drinks it 

shall live and not die. 

104 



[The Beaker of Love] 105 

And who drink of it not are forgotten; they are born, 

and they live, and they die, 
As the horse or the dog or the viper, which coiled in the 

desert doth lie; 
They may do good or bad, just existing; may live out 

life's shortening span 
As the animal vicious or humble, of danger or service to 

man; 
They shall ne'er know the lilt of glad rapture when life 

seems to melt into song , 
No eyes shall shine glad at their coming, no rosy-cheekod 

babies shall throng 
Of a night-time to greet their home-coming, they shall 

eat all unnoticed, alone, 
As a dog shunned or kicked from the highways consoleth 

himself with a bone. 
And no red lips shiall sup at the beaker of life, then press 

warm in a kiss 
On their lips or their brow, and, in pressing, find a soul 

newly born of their bliss; 
I rede ye, go seek for the goblet, look deeply in each 

pair of eyes; 
In azure, or black eyes, or brown ones — who drinks of 

the draught never dies. 



THE SLEIGHING PAETY. 



Where snow-laden winds are blowing, 
Where ice-fettered streams are flowing, 
Where the stall-fed cows are lowing, 

I would go; 
I would go — go back a-seeking, 
Where the hard-packed snow is creaking, 
Where the laden bobs are squeaking 

O'er the snow. 



I would hear the sleigh-bells jingle, 
I would feel ni}^ fingers tingle, 
IM climb in the sleigh and mingle 

With the girls; 
I would hear the jingle- jangle 
Mixed with youthful laugh and wrangle, 
I would feel my heart a-t angle 

In gold curls. 

106 



[The Sleighing Party'] 107 

We would snuggle down and cuddle 
Midst the robes and straw, and huddle 
In a happy mixed-up muddle 

In the sleigh ; 
While the horses' hoofs were pounding, 
While the snowdrifts we were rounding, 
While the glad sleigh-bells were sounding 

Far away. 



I would taste the long gone blisses 
Of tlie surreptitious kisses — 
Oh, the red lips of the misses, 

And cold nose! 
I would feel the old elation 
When we reached our destination, 
Join in many a swift g}Tation 

In the snows. 

There'd be mugs of foaming cider, 
There'd be no one there to chide, or 
Chaperone, and woe betide her 

Who hung back 
From the gust of joy and pleasure. 
From the foamed o'er-brimming measure. 
From the doughnuts, each a treasure. 

In a stack. 



108 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

I would see the farm boys standing 
All a-grin and shyly banding 
In a comer and ^^Good landing !'^ 

At the rout; 
There'd be kissing in each frolic, 
There'd be games and joys bucolic, 
And we'd laugh and dance and rollick, 

And would shout. 



Then we'd stream from opened portals, 
Such a happy stream of mortals ; 
Full of quips and tricks and chortles. 

Glad and gay ! 
With hand-shakings and good-byeing. 
Objurgations and replying. 
Come agains — then homeward flying 

In the sleigh. 



YOUE KISSES. 

I liave been where apples ripened in the autumn, 

I have seen strawberries blushing red in June, 
I have seen ripe cherries hang where the robins pecked 
and sang, 

I have seen the world grow ripe, and seen the moon 
Ripen out to full October harvest beauty; 

But the cherries, berries, apples cannot be 
Half so fraught with joy and blisses, half so wondrous 
as your kisses. 

Since your lips are ripe and half apart for me. 

I'm a dreamer by the roadside, and I'm dreaming. 

While the serio-comic world is trailing by, 
Of the glories I have seen where the forest monarchs 
lean 
^Vlien the lashings of the tempest scourge the sky ; 
But no gloiy born of tempest's cry, or music, 
Or of pictures God may paint on land or sea. 
Ever bring me half the blisses that I gather from your 
kisses, 
Since your lips are ripe and half apart for me. 
109 



no LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Since I held your hands close clasped in both my own 
hands, 
Since your arms were shyly clasped about my neck, 
There has been a reeling glory — oh, I cannot tell tho 
story — 
That will live though earth and heaven go to wreck ! 
All the memory of the lights across the water. 

Of the silhouetted poplars yet shall be 
Mine through all the years' abysses; but the glory of 
your kisses 
Will make heaven itself seem cheap and dull to me. 



THE MOTHER-TONE. 



ISTever a song that the breeze whispers low, 
Never a measure the bugles may blow, 

Like the lilt and the croon 

Of the old-fashioned tune 
That babes in the arms of their glad mothers know. 



ISTever an anthem that goes to the throne 
Where angel hosts sing and trumpets are blown, 

Like the low note and clear 

That falls on the ear 
Of the baby in arms — like the dear mother-tone. 



Ill 



PICTUEES OF THE SOUTHLAND. 



I am sitting by a window that is open to the South, 
And a magic perfiuned sweetness is pervading all the 
air, 
And it comes to me as softly as red kisses on the mouth, 
And the breeze is like slim fingers softly moving 
through my hair; 
Oh, crepe-myrtle leaves are scarlet; I can see them flame 
afar, 
And the golden cosmos mornings is a-drip with silver 
dew; 
Oh, I long to come and seek you, come and find you 
where you are. 
Just to bring the lovely pictures of the Southland to 
your view. 

You and I have watched the city from the highlands co 
the west. 
Just a silhouette serrated 'gainst the far moon-lighted 
skies. 
When the birds and trees and bushes all seemed lulled 
to noiseless rest. 
And Vye turned and caught the glory of the moment 
in your eyes ; 

112 



[Pictures of the Southland] 113 

And we've turned and walked on, slowly turning now 
and then to see 
That which held us rapt and speechless — ^that whjse 
every phase was new — 
Silhouetted distant city, silhouetted nearhy tree; 
Oh, Vd love to show the pictures of the Southland, 
dear, to you. 

Sitting here beside the window with the breezes in my 
hair, 
And the perfume of the Southland like a red-lipped, 
teasing kiss. 
For a moment you seem perching here beside me on 
my chair. 
And the miles betv/een us, fading, leave us sitting 
steeped in bliss. 
Far away wide liveoaks beckon, standing up against the 
sky; 
And magnolias are calling, every bloom a-drip with 
dew. 
And the Jasmine perfume coaxes where the hazy bayous 
lie; 
Oh, rd love to show the pictures of the Southland, 
dear, to you. 



ANGRY. 



Ah, well, yon arc angry, I know, bnt then 

Your lips were red, such a tempting red ! 
And I am not sorry, I'd do again 

The thing that I did ; I would raise your head 
With your chin in my palm, and your eyes would flare 

Again in my eyes as they did just then. 
Half frowning, half thinking I would not dare; 

But I would, and I did, and would dare again. 



And one 'of my arms held both your arms, 

And your chin seemed snuggling right into my palm, 
And I held you to me with, all your charms. 

And kissed and kissed you with never a qualm; 
Just held and snuggled you close to me, 

And felt the joy of your straining form. 
And your eyes were as flashing as they could be ; 

But, heigh-o ! your lips ! they were red and warm ! 

114 



[Angry] 115 

I hold that a man is a fool wlio waits 

For a kiss until it is offered him ; 
Who coaxes and inches along, and prates 

Of his love and longing till day growls dim, 
When the thing he would have is within his reach, 

And when red, red lips, like a cupid's bow, 
Are a-pout with a dare — and a downy peaeh 

Of a cheek — oh, I'd kiss you again, I know ! 

I would kiss you again, for I somehow know 

Should I wait till I saw your bright eyes shine 
Permission sweet, and their lids droop low 

In yielding, your kisses would ne'er be mine; 
For you are a tigress reincarnate ; 

Your soul to only brute force could yield; 
And I — well, I am not made to wait, 

And I — I will win you against the field ! 



And so, you untamable, wild, wild thing, 

I took the course that I did with you; 
And your lips, I thought that I felt them cling 

For all of your struggles, and anger, too; 
And then you were sprung from my arms and gone 

Down the hall and away, and the day seemed long. 
Till I heard, from where I was left alone. 

Your lilting voice in a laughing s'ong. 



AN IDEAL COME TRUE. 

I somehow think I would care for you 
If your eyes were not of the voilet's hue, 
If your hair were not such a taAvny gold, 
And if you were older than you are old. 

And if you never had lived I know 
That all of my lifetime's to and fro, 
Through lurking shadow and sunlit way, 
I'd love you as much as I do today. 



I would see you as clearly as I do now. 

Your lips ripe red and your smooth, white brow, 

And if through life I had walked alone 

You would still be with me, my own, my own. 



For you are my ideal girl come true — 
Ah, heaven is good ! I am glad for you ! 
I am glad that the cup it is mine to quaff 
Holds the bubbling joy of your happy laugh. 

116 



[An Ideal Come True] 117 

I am glad for the paths it was ours to go 
Together ; that all of the ways we know- 
Are as dear to both as they are to one; 
The broad, deep river, the shallow run, 



The mountains high, and the valleys deep. 
Where days the shadows of night-time sleep ; 
For the umber shadows where mockbirds sing, 
For the goldenrod where the medlarks swing. 

And, dear, I know I would care for you 
If your eyes were not of the violet's hue; 
And would stoop to your red, red lips for toll, 
For your soul and my soul are soul to soul. 



ABOUT HER NECK. 



There is joy untold in the wind-blown gold 

Of your coppery-tinted hair. 
And the light that lies in your turquoise eyes; 

And your cheek — it is more than fair; 
And the touch is grand of your wee white hand, 

But the heart of a man shall wreck 
In a glad amaze when he stops to gaze 

At the nape of your splendid neck. 



Let the poets sing o'er the lilt and swing 

Of your lute-like voice and sweet, 
Of your forehead fair, and the azure flare 

Of your eyes, and your dainty feet; 
Of your rose-red lips, of your finger-tips, 

And kneel to your slightest beck ; 
Though T sing alone, I; a song intone 

To the nape of your witching neck. 

118 



[About Her Neck] 119 

^Tis a column slim that the seraphim 

Might envy you, and cold 
Is the eye, indeed, that would give no heed 

Where its ivory meets the gold 
Of a crinkled tress like a soft caress, 

Like a sunbeam gone to ^vreck; 
Oh, it's well you wis what I'd risk to kiss 

Just the nape of your splendid neck. 



Just the nape of it, where it seems to flit 

Like a moon-ray through the fluff 
Of your scolding-loeks, and it gleams and mocks, 

And never it gives enough 
Of its beauty up for a soul-deep sup ! 

Ah, heaven itself might beck. 
And might beck in vain, for I'd look again 

To the nape of your perfect neek. 



THE EASTER GIJRL. 



Now, you looked sweet on Evaster morn ! 

Spring blossoms dipped in dew 
Were not so fresh and not so sweet 

And not so fair as yon! 
Naught else in nature was so fair — 

The arching, rain-washed skies 
Were not so pure nor so demure 

As were your downcast eyes. 

And roses nodding by the way, 

Their tinted leaves to shed 
Where you would take your way to church, 

Were not so rare a red 
As were the fresh, young lips of you! 

The blossoms at your feet 
Were dipped in dew, but, maiden, you 

Were many times as sweet. 

120 



[The Easter Girl] 121 

I watched you going by as one 

Would listen to a hymn; 
As one would stand soul-glorified 

Before the seraphim 
And take no thought of flight of time ! 

While gazing on your face 
Age after age might turn its page 

Yet seem a moment's space. 



I gazed upon the spring-clad ways, 

On blooms begemmed with dew; 
And gazed on you and rendered thanks 

That I was not as you; 
I'd rather be the worshipper 

To watch your passing by 
Than miss the smart you give the heart 

Of such an oaf as I. 



EVEN THEN. 

Said the protoplasmic atom 

To the cell, "We have no souls 
Now, but I've a premonition 

That the tide of time that rolls 
Ever onward, ever upward. 

Will shape us, and call us human; 
I will be a man, I fancy; 

You, I think, will be a woman. 

"We're predestined for each other ; 

We, in our new life's hey-day, 
Will be separate till some time. 

Dawdling slowly down the way, 
We shall meet, each with the other. 

And this thing I somehow wis. 
You shall have blue eyes and red lips — 

Lips my own shall long to kiss. 

"Have you no such feeling in you? 

No such hoping? No foresight 
That tells you my thought's a tvue one? 

That my intuition's right ?" 
Said the cell back to the atom, 

"Dear old Proto, that sounds great ! 
We shall meet just thus, I fancy; 

Hope my hat will be on straight." 

122 



VIOLETS. 

And you know, 
And I know, 
That where the drifts of snow 

Are growing sodden in the sun, 
They feel a stir below; 

And fettered streams eftsoons will run. 
And violets will blow 

Where we picked them days agone, 
In ways that we do know. 

Afar South 
A red mouth 
Is parting for a kiss, 

And spring is tinting winter ways, 
And roses sway in bliss 

And hold their half-oped buds aloft 
To catch the tenderness 

Of the South breeze; so wondrous soft 
Each touch is a caress. 

123 



124 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

The weeds stand 
A gaunt band, 
Beneath a dull gray sky ; 

And all around the ground is white, 
No green attracts the eye ; 

But from the blooming South a breeze, 
With promises aglow, 

Talks soft of daises to our knees, 
And violets a-blow. 



Oh, fair South ! 

Oh, glad South ! 

The where the spring is born ! 

That sends the warmth to rive our chains, 
And perfumed winds of morn ; 

Fair are the gifts and good you send 
To ways we used to know; 

Soft greens and sweet perfumes to blend, 
And violets to blow. 



THIS MEANS YOU. 

It isn't the white clover blooming, 

It isn't the breath of the spring, 
And Vd be presuming to say the perfuming 

Of roses could do such a thing; 
And it isn't all of them together 

That makes me so glad to be here 
That my soul hugs its tether through all sorts of 
weather ; 

I think it's just you. You're a dear ! 

It's the clasp of your cool hands at morning; 

The laugh in the deeps of your eyes; 
I hereby serve warning : That wretch deserves scorning 

Who calls this a world full of lies! 
Oh, your crinkled locks ! Knot-scorning tresses ! 

Afloat and a-lift to each breeze ! 
Each touch of each tress is more soft than caresses, 

M'ore potent than wealth is to please ! 

'Than wealth is !" Dear girl, darkest shade ia 

Bright sunshine with you ! Wealth is dross ! 
You peerless of ladies ! were you beyond hades — 

A rotten-bridged hades — I'd cross! 
I'd come to you, clasp you, and love you! 

Or, the rotten plank breaking, I'd fall! 
For it's that way I love you. And if, up above, you 

Called to me, I'd come to your call. 

125 



LOVE'S BIER. 



If Love in all the world lay dead, 

Lay dead and still and cold, 
With candles burning at his head, 

With pall draped fold on fold 
About the rigid baby form, 

When next spring came — ah, then 
I know Love would grow quick and warm. 

And come to life again. 



If Love were dead, and maids knew not 

The meaning of his name. 
And wooded hill and shaded grot 

Knew nothing of his glame. 
And youths and maids should wander down 

In spring through any scene, 
Then Love, from eyes of blue and brown. 

Would leap and walk between. 

126 



[Love's Bier] 127 

If Love lay dead upon his bier, 

And from his swelling throat, 
Full low and sweet, and far and clear, 

A mockbird trilled a note. 
Then Love would stir beneath his pall 

And rise to catch the song; 
And stretch and ya^vn to hear the call, 

And say, "I've slept too long!'' 



And the dead wreaths about his bier 

Would spring to sudden bloom. 
And dew-drops, born from every tear, 

Would wake a sweet perfume; 
And men and maids, who came in bands, 

The death of Love to weep. 
Would smile, and, hands close clasped in hands, 

Would say, "Love did but sleep !" 



CHRYSANTHEMUMS. 

Style of the hat you wore ? I do not know it ; 

That ^twas a dainty dream I do confess; 
I only saw the face, the face below it, 

The face and eyes alight with tenderness. 
Chrysanthemums, I think, your arms were holding, 

And one fair hand did press them to your breast — 
Oh, lucky blooms, to know such sweet enfolding! 

Oh, lucky blooms, with such a place to rest ! 

I knew you not — perhaps may never know you — 

I only know I saw you — see you yet — 
I only had the time a glance to throw you, 

Yet all through life I know I'll not forget. 
I'll hedge a garden round with dainty wickets, 

And cultivate therein those wondrous blooms. 
Like those you bore, and o'er the low, white pickets 

They yet shall nod their captivating plumes. 

And you, perhaps, some day will hap to spy them. 

And pause to look them over, passing by. 
And should I see you when you stop to eye them. 

And when you pause, if I can catch your eye, 
I'll make it known they're yours, each blooming treasure ; 

I'll give them you, if you will hold them, dear ! 
Lord love you, dear ! if it would give you pleasure 

I'd grab my hat and quit this mundane sphere. 

128 




AND THE RUSSIAN COMMANDER LOOKED ON HER, 
AND THE RUSSIAN WAS NOT WISE. 



DELILAH. 



[A daring and clever feat was performed by a Japanese 
•woman who escaped from Dalny by means which are still 
shrouded in secrecy. She stole from the port authorities 
official charts and plans of the harbors of Dalny and Port 
Arthur, which were being kept strictly private and official. 
She then took them to Tokdo, getting away simply as one 
who was an ordinary refugee. On giving the plans to the 
Japanese government and telling her story, he was deco- 
rated for heroism.] 

A giggle has rippled around the world 

From Dalny to Tokio, 
Wherever the wire clicks out its song, 

Wherever that news may go ; 
"A woman has gripped with the Russian bear, 

And a woman has brought him low." 

A wee, little feminine Japanese 

With slanting, demure dark eyes; 
And the Russian commander looked on her. 

And the Russian was not wise; 
For a woman— not I, but history writes— 

A woman is mostly lies. 
129 



130 LILTS O' LOYE. 

He looked^ he did, on her doll-like face — 

He'd probably never heard 
The tale of Delilah, this stalwart Russ — 

And his pulse — it was strangely stirred; 
When she whispered in Russo-Japanese 

That she loved him, he took her word. 

And the nev/s it has sped from Tokio, 

From the gulf of Liaotung ; 
It is talked in Ohifu and Weihaiwei, 

And the wires the tale have sung 
Beneath wide seas till all men laugh, 

Whatever their shade or tongue. 

A Russian commander in Dalny fumes 

And thinks of a wee, round face, 
And 'of blue-black hair, and of eyes a-slant, 

And measures him pace by pace 
His quarters, and looks at a faint white mark 

On his breast — 'tis her only trace. 

Rice powder leaves such a mark as that, 

And doubtless her cheek lay there 
For a moment or two; but she's gone, gone, gone 

With the scent of her perfumed hair; 
But she is not all that is gone ; ah, no ! 

That is gone from the Russian bear ! 



[Delilah] 131 

For the plans of the harbor of Dalny, now, 

And Port Arthur harbor, too, 
Their mines and defenses and all their works. 

And the winding channels through. 
Are gone with her off to Tokio 

Where the Japs plan what to do. 



A wee, little feminine Japanese 
With slanting, demure dark eyes ! 

And the Russian commander looked on her, 
And the Russian y\^as not wise ; 

For a woman — not I, but history writes— 
A woman is mostly lies. 



JUST YOU. 

Your name ? Ah, no, 'tis not your name, 

Though it means much ; 
S'ome thousands might be called the same, 

Yet not one touch 
Of any other lips than thine, 

On all this earth. 
Could bring the same glad thrill to mine. 

Or could give birth 
To half the hopes that fill my heart 

When you are by; 
When we are near, or far apart. 

No other's eye 
Could speak the language, dear, to me 

That your eyes do; 
^Tis not your name I love in thee; 

No, it's just you. 

No, it's just you — your every way — 

I know them all; 
Your wind-blown, spun-gold curls astray, 

The low, sweet call 

132 



[Just Tou] 133 

Of your clear voice, like hidden springs, 

As pure and sweet, 
That lilts and laughs, and softly sings ; 

Then, in retreat. 
Fades softly out and leaves me there. 

Just me alone, 
Heart-full of just a picture fair; 

My own ! My own ! 
^Tis not your name that sheds the glame. 

Though that seems good; 
For I — I^d love to change that name, 

Dear, if I could. 



FORESTALLED 

Wh'oever it was that did it, 

Be it Adam and Eve, or wlio 
(The eons of time ha\^e hid it), 

We know it was done by two — 
But whatever two evolved it — 

God grant them eternal bliss! 
^Twas a wonderful thing to the world to bring 

The rapture that's in a kiss. 

The}^ are hid in the misty ages. 

The names of the lucky twain, 
No musty, thuinb-worn pages 

Give back to the world again 
The name of the tender maiden, 

J^or ho^y it was brought ahout; 
But 'tis safe to say 'twas behind the day 

With the lights turned down or out. 

But I know she was a maiden 

With tangly, sun-kissed hair. 
With blue eyes, mischief-laden. 

With lips pursed in a dare; 
And I Imow had that twain not found it. 

It is writ, come joy or rue, 
I'd have sipped the bliss of the world's first kiss 

From the red, red lips of you. 

134 



SIISTCE I KISSED YOU. 

There are rabbit tracks, I wan-ant, 

Making pathways through the snow, 
And grim winter's grasp is holding 

Summer ways we used to go ; 
In the glen dead nests are hanging, 

For the birds have all gone South ; 
And there's not a daisy blo'oming 

Where I kissed you on the mouth. 

And the cliff paths where we wandered 

Now are perilous with sleet. 
And the steps are covered over 

Where I helped you set your feet; 
Yet I loiow that you remember, 

And a warm breeze from the S'outh 
Wakes those ways to lasting summer, 

Where I kissed you on the mouth. 

Tears -of parting turn to laughter, 

And the weary, dreary miles. 
In the memory of life's May-time, 

Turn to winsome, Anstfiil smiles; 
And our liearts sliall know no winter. 

And onr spirits know no drouth; 
Life is all of it worth living 

Since I kissed you on the mouth. 

185 



LOVE'S COURSE. 

No time to lose^ no time to lose, 

For either you or me; 
'No time to beat about and cruise 

Across an unknown sea ; 
To windward lie Love's peaceful isles, 

But rocks are hard a-lee. 

Not one may hold the tiller true — 

Nor I, nor yet may you — 
If we would 'scape the rocks o' rue, 

The best that we may do 
Is both to grip the tiller fast 

And help to crowd her through. 

The peaceful harbor lies ahead, 

The goring rocks a-beam, 
And coaxing, luring ways are spread 

To lure our bark between; 
But wreck lurks in each luring way. 

And woe ye may not ween. 

136 



[Lovers Course] 137 

Who leaves Love's highway once 'tis won 

May never win him back; 
May never, till life's fitful sun 

Sets on his wayward track, 
E'er find again love's blessed way 

Amid life's wrath and wrack. 



The meed of coquetry is this: 
That 'neath its luring scent, 

Beneath its stolen, luring kiss, 
Born of its own intent. 

Are dregs that end the days of love ; 
There woe and cark are blent. 



1^0 time to lose ! No time to lose ! 

The course lies straight ahead; 
The harbor of the Isles o'^ Love 

Is for our resting spread; 
But one may not hold to the course ; 

It taketh two, instead. 



OLD SCENES. 

Nay, those old scenes where we have walked and you 

have talked to me, 
Are dearer far than other climes or other scenes can be ; 
The sun may send its glad rays down to tint the paths 

I tread, 
And jDerfumed blooms you have not l^nown may bend 

Icfw overhead; 
But through it all, the dew-gemmed mom, the sunset's 

afterglow, 
I'll sit and talk with you beneath the trees we used to 

know. 

All, all that makes my far-draiwn ways the least bit fair 

shall be 
That they in some small measure bring the old, old 

da^'s to me; 
My heart shall say, "The sun comes up and tints those 

far-off slopes; 
The dew hangs bright on cobweb strands, till they appear 

as ropes 
Of swinging pearl; and the whole scene and all the 

sunlit ways 
Are fair; almost as fair as where we walked in other 

days." 

138 



[Old Scenes] 189 

Ways that your dear feet have not trod^ your bright eyes 

have not known, 
But wake my soul to sigh that I must walk those ways 

alone ; 
And every floating butterfly, and every lilting song, 
That I shall see or hear will bring back memories so 

strong 
Of other days and other ways, and skies a deeper blue, 
That I shall love them just because they bring me 

thoughts of you. 



THE BETTER CHOICE. 

If it were mine again to choose, 

I'd choose the same, I ween ; 
The sullen sky, the stormy main. 

The tossing bark between. 
The long night-watches at the wheel. 

The one faint guiding star. 
The tug of sea-strained rudder-chains. 

The thought of you afar. 

I'd choose again the salt sea spray, 

The sloping, heaving deck. 
To dare again abysmal deeps. 

The storm's swift shock and wreck, 
And laugh and feel my heart grow big 

To know, each night at home. 
You knelt beside your couch and prayed 

For me across the foam. 

140 



[The Better Choice] 141 

I'd leave you for the vision, dear, 

Of you, dear heart, alone 
At midnight by your window wide 

When wind-thonged seas make moan ; 
A wee and tearful, night-rohed form. 

With golden, wind-flung hair. 
With straining eyes and thought for me 

Amid the lightning's flare. 

I'd choose all this; the lonely life. 

The hurricane-flung foam 
That bites the cheek, for just the joy 

That's mine on coming home ! 
He chooses ill who wo'os and wins 

And settles down to stay; 
Who woos, and wins, and weds, and leaves, 

Has heartful love alway. 



REACTION. 



She is sitting listless, 

Gazing over sea, 
Waiting for a lover, 

But she won't see me ; 
Waiting for a warrior bold, 
Armor-clad and spurred with gold, 
Like a Imight in da5^s of old, 

Proud as he can be. 



I, who seek to woo her. 
Find her sitting there; 
Mystery is in her eyes. 

Breezes kiss her hair; 
I would die for her did she 
Voice the wish — right merrily — 
But she gives no thought to me ; 
J'ove ! but she is fair ! 

142 



[Reaction] 143 

Shall I wear my life ont 

'Gainst her cold disdain? 
He who woos and goes awa}^ 

Lives to woo again: 
I will woo another maid; 
I will hie me to a glade 
Far from this; all undismayed 

Bid adieu to pain. 



Wiiiat ! she deigns to see me 

As I move away ! 
Is that sudden downcast look 

Bid for me to stay ? 
Nay, it cannot be, I'm wrong ! 
I have wooed her over-long — 
I wall not ! I will be strong ! 

I will go away ! 



What? I think she's calling! 

Says she loves me true ! 
Says she's just discovered it ! 

Following me, too ! 
Strange how I am growing cold — ■ 
Seek your lover spurred with gold! 
Maiden, you are over-bold i 

Maid, I love not you ! 



LAND OF A DKEAM. 

Down where the river brawls through the green valley, 

Down where the cat-tails stand by the swift stream, 
Down where the wild winds are singing a rally, 

And the cliffs are all scarred, is the land of a dream ; 
There where the skies in their color are vieing 

With your eyes, as they looked on a day that I know, 
There where the purple-topped clover lay dying, 

And the breeze bore its last perfumed breath to and 
fro, 

Oh, it's there where the reapers had finished their 
reaping. 
There, there where the bees droned away the sweet 
day, 
Till the night in cool dews o'er the fallen came weeping, 
There, there where the purple-topped sweet clover 
lay; 
Oh, it's there that I see you ere night's lamps are lighted, 
While I'm sitting alone in the night's purple gloom; 
Oh, it's there all the wrongs of the years have been 
righted. 
And there's just you and me and the clover's perfume. 

144 



[Land of a Dream] ^^^ 

Oh, it's there, if the spirit may come back to hover 

O'er scenes and o'er places the heart loved so well, 
From the bonme the own soul shall win back of your 
lover. 

O'er the meadow we knew, where the sweet clover fell ; 
It shall range down the valley, and search the abysses 

Beneath where the cliffs their dark, damp shadow? 
throw. 
All the nooks known of old and enriched by your kisses. 

And shall dwell by the scenes we two loved long ago. 



VAMPIEE MEMORY. 



On the Grand Canal at night-time- 
Take away the garish glare 

Of the many-colored daylight, 
Like a maiden favored fair, 

Decked in all the rainhow colors, 
With red poppies in her hair. 



On the Grand Canal at night-time — 
Let the blue-black night come down 

Etched with mere pin points of brightness, 
Lights of the half-sleeping town. 

Sky above and sea beneath ns — 
God be good to those who drown. 



Give me Pearl again, reclining; 

Let me hear her accents clear 
In some soft Italian measure. 

Grant me just again to hear — 
Once again to see and hear her 

And the sullen gondolier. 

146 



[Vampire Memory] 147 

The red poppies on her forehead — 

Nay, let me no more look down ! 
God, blot out the memory of her! 

In her eyes, deep pools of brown 
Where I sink — remove this vampire! 
God be good to those who drown ! 



LOVE. 

If the world were a red, red rose, 

As red as your lips are red, 
And my life were the goldenrod. 

As gold as your gold-crowned head. 
And my hopes were forgetmenots, 

As blue as your eyes are blue, 
I would ruthlessly pluck them, every one, 

And weave in a crown for you. 

If my fame were a blossom fair, 

As fair as your rounded cheek, 
If the throb of my heart were just a bloom, 

As sweet as the tones you speak ; 
If all I have won or hope to win 

Were blossoms, you should not sue 
For them at all ! I would gladly pluck 

And give eyerj one to you. 

I would pluck every one for you ! 

I love you, I do, so much ! 
I would yield my s-oul with a happy laugh 

For the cool caressing touch 
Of your dainty pink-palmed hands, 

For the kisses I erstwhile knew; 
And give my life, did you say I might. 

For it all belongs to you. 

148 



OH, MY DEARIE. 

Oh, my dearie, dearie, dearie, 
Life's a wondrous thing and cheery. 
Never dark and never dreary ; 

All its blooms are sweet with dew ! 
And the mocking-bird is swinging. 
Swinging low and high, and singing, 
And my every thought is winging 

Out across the world to you. 

Life's a wondrous thing, a potion 
Stirred by breezes from the ocean, 
And its every sweet emotion. 

Dear, is born of dreams of you ! 
And I lift the chalice gladly, 
Slowly, slowly, never sadly, 
Never quickly, never madly, 

'Tis a most enchanting brew ! 

149 



160 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Drain it slowly, slowly, slowly, 
With a spirit meek and lowly, 
^Tis a wondrous brew and holy ! 

Life is good, it gave me you ! 
And I'm glad, dear ; in my telling 
Can you see the gladness welling 
In my heart and feel its swelling ? 

Ah, life's skies are arched and blue. 



Dear, when I am lowly lying, 

When my last faint breath comes sighing. 

And my spirit preens for flying. 

And life's cup is drained and through, 
I shall end it, never shrinking, 
With no sad regret or thinking ; 
All of it was worth the drinking ! 

It was sweet with love of you ! 



HEART-O'-MB. 



Heart-o'-me ! Heart-o'-me— 

Roses are blooming, 
Yellow and white ones, 

Velvety red; 
And tlie big trumpet blooms 
Drip down their sweet perfumes, 
Night birds are crooning 
Far overhead. 



Heart-o'-me ! Heart-'o-me— 

Dew-drops are falling, 
Crystally clear drops, 
Shimmering dew ! 
And liveoak branches swing 
Where we heard thrushes sing, 
And my heart's calling. 
Calling to you. 
151 



152 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Heart-o'-me ! Heart-o'-me — 

Know where our wending 
Took us that bright day, 

We two alone ? 
There's where my heart is set, 
There's where I see you yet ; 
Shadows are blending, 
Heart-o'-my-own ! 



Heart-o'-me ! Heart-o'-me- 

Bird, the wild rover. 
Flies far and farther, 

Never to bide; 
You are the heart o' me ! 
Oh, to your side to flee 
From the world over ! 
Just to vour side ! 



ENOUGH. 

Music and flowers, 

Goblets of red wine, 
And, 'oh, the pouting lips of love ! 

Bed lips to cling to mine ! 
Then let the world go hang ! 

There's naught that's true but this; 
The beaded wine, in goblets tall, 

And love's entrancing kiss ! 

Music and flowers. 

Winding highways long, 
Gold tresses blown across my face. 

Winds perfumed with a song, 
And" dimpled arms that cling 

Through all the paths we tread. 
Just only these, and life were good 

Though all the world were dead! 

Music and flowers. 

And you beside me yet. 
And every day and every way 

A way we'd not forget ! 
"Is heaven true or not?" 

Come ! Give me back my smile ! 
With you and blooms and love's red wine, 

Just life were worth the while ! 
153 



LOVE TO TIME. 



''Nay/' laughed Love, "I am living. 

No years may me undo! 
I finding joy in giving, 

Then shall I sup the rue 
If I ask naught forever? 

Gro to, oh Time, go to ! 



"If I ask naught forever, 
Naught, nothing in return, 

There's naught of all thy brewing 
Can make my heart to yearn ! 

Oh, Time, thou art amusing. 
Thou hast so much to learn ! 



"Oh, Time, thou art amusing ! 

Oh, Time, it is to laugh ! 
Fill the goblet as thou wilt, 

Let it be mine to quaff ! 
And o'er its brim forever 

Love still shall look and laugh! 
154 



[Love to Time] 155 

"And o'er its brim forever 

I'll look, and laughter, too, 
At thy gray locks shall stir me! 

As many years as you 
Shall tell, I'll tell them with thee; 

Come, mix me up the brew ! 



"Come, mix thy strongest potion. 

And let us have it done; 
And I will drink it laughing, 

Will quaff your strongest one ! 
Despite all brews. Love yet shall live 

Till Time itself be done !" 



COULD YOU GUESS? 



When your arms were full of blossoms 

We had plucked beside the way 
That winds round beside the river 

Where the sunlit ripples play — 
When your arms were full of blossoms, 

And the light was on your hair, 
Oould you guess that never, never, 

Held the world one half so fair ? 



When your arms were full of blossoms, 

And you stepped into the road 
From the fields where rippling billows 

Of delightful blossoms flowed, 
Kunning after, after, after, 

Just to crowd about your feet. 
Did you know it — that the wide world 

Held no other half so sweet? 

156 



[Could You Guess] 157 

When your arms were full of blossoms, 

And you bent until your hair 
Mingled with their perfumed sweetness, 

And your brow so broad and fair 
Felt their timid, swift caresses, 

Dear, dear heart, were you acquaint 
With the fact that never artist 

Such a scene as that could paint? 

When your arms were full of blossoms. 

Did you catch the sudden hush? 
Know the river ceased its singing? 

Know the thralldom of the thrush? 
Know all nature hung in rapture 

On the necromantic spell 
Of your purity and beauty? 

Did you know it? Could you tell? 



THE TORRENT'S VOICE. 



They are good, the placid waters in the shadows of the 

wood; 
And the umber shadows falling on the bayous, they are 

good; 
And the mocking-bird low swinging in the china-berry 

tree 
Sings a song of wondrous sweetness that is more than 

good to me ! 
But at least once in a twelve-month comes a coaxing, 

calling tone 
From the heaven-kissing mountains and the vales that 

were my own ! 
And the voices of the torrents that I stemmed when life 

was young 
Come to me, asleep or waking — sweeter songs were never 

sung ! 



Oh, the flower-spangled prairies stretching far beneath 

the sky! 
They are sweeter than the anthems that the angels sing 

on high ! 

158 



[The Torrent's Voice] 

And the long and sandy reaches, curving down beside 
the hay, 

Coax me, coax me jnst to linger where the little chil- 
dren play! 

But my unused eyes are aching from the flatness stretch- 
ing far, 

And are longing for the mountains, for each rough 
scarped cliff and scar ! 

And my ears hear from the distance the beloved ferine 
strain 

Of the boulder-tortured torrents battling down the glens 
again ! 

Oh, the boulder-tortured torrents ! Oh, the flying spume 

and spray! 
Oh, the house-big rocky fragments flung in some Titanic 

fray, 
And worn smooth through many ages by the torrent's 

rush and sweep ! 
Oh, the foam-white falls that thunder where the splen- 
did salmon leap ! 
They are good, the sleeping bayous! It is go-od, the 

sandy shore! 
It is good, the spangled prairie stretching westward 

like a floor ! 
But through all my sleep or waking comes a voice for 

me alone, 
From the boulder-twisted torrents and the glens thU 

were my own! 



LOVE'S EGOTISM. 



Oh, dim stars, and bright stars. 

And stars we can not see. 
And moon so cold and cahn and bright, 

And you, oh, tossing sea, 
I've wondered at the scheme of things 

That set yon in the sky. 
And at the wild unsounded deeps 

That 'neath your surface lie. 

I've wondered — aje, I've wondered long. 

Why the blue vaulted skies 
Had ever been created; then 

Down deep in two blue eyes 
I saw the answer flash to mine. 

As plain as plain could be, 
That all of this vast universe 

Was made for her and me ! 



160 




<*fl.!ll : m 



%fW'V-,. 



>J 



?/ 



n^^ -ji 



^ '^-'^ .'/^ 



HOW CAN YOU LOOK IN A GIRL'S EYES 

WITH DIMF^LES PHEPINO THROUGH 
THE SHOULDERS OF HER GOWN LIKE THAT 
AND A\AKING EYES AT YOU. 



WARM. 

I wish girls wouldn't wear these waists 

Their shoulders glimmer through; 
I wish they wo'uld not wear the hose 

Like most all of them do; 
A dainty, coaxy, teasy, thin, 

Most tantalizing blue; 
White shoulders make one long to bite, 

And blue-clad ankles — Whew! 

White shoulders clad in gauzy stuff 

The dimples can peep through, 
And hosiery like summer skies, 

A dainty Alice-blue, 
All covered — far as one can see — 

With silken blossoms, too; 
Delirious, tantalizing things ! 

Just twinkling dreams and — ^Whew I 

161 



162 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

I wish they would cut out these waists, 

These shirtwaists peek-a-boo; 
How can you look in a girl's eyes 

With dimples peeping through 
The shoulders of her gown like that 

And making eyes at you, 
Or see if her hat is on straight 

When blue-clad ankles — Whew! 



I wish the summer days were gone — 

For my own peace I do — ■ 
And winter had wiped out these waists 

We know as "peek-a-boo/' 
And these darned, daint}^, teasing, slim, 

Trim ankles, Alice-blue ! 
Gee ! The thermometers gone up ! 

Way up to 92 ! 



UlSrSPOKEN. 

The rose was as red as your lips were red. 

The rose that I plucked for you ; 
In the red, red glow of its velvet heart 

There shone just a drop of dew ; 
And the things you thought and the things I thought 

Are a secret between us two ! 

I know that you took and you wore it long, 

I saw it lie on your breast ; 
I know I envied the petals curled 

That the look from your eyes caressed ; 
But your lips— they have never whispered yet 

The thing that your eyes expressed. 

But the rose that died on your breast that day 

Is lying before me now ; 
The drop of dew that its red heart held 

Is fled ; and I wonder how 
The crumpled petals had seemed so fair, 

N'low dead as an unbreathed vow ! 
163 



164 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

And so the things your lips said not. 

And the things I never said, 
Are like the rose with its dust-dry^ leaves, 

As dead as its heart is dead ; 
But my heart leaps up as I catch your eye. 

And your cheeks as the rose are red ! 



WHEN LIFE WAS WORTH WHILE. 

Oh, they were pleasant, the ways that you walked with 
me ! 
Eoses ne'er bloomed as they bloomed in those days ! 
Oh, ihey were pleasant, the days that yon talked with 
me! 
Birds never carolled so sweetly tlieir lays ! 
Oh, they were pleasant by day and by night ! 
The world — never world was so full of delight ! 

Glad were the evenings your sweet voice rang out to me ! 

Heaven was 'open and angels peeped through ! 
A thrush in the thicket off yonder sang out to me ! 
The breeze brought sweet perfumes to me and to you ! 
And, oh, life was glad ! no heart hath throbbed high 
As my own heart then throbbed at the look from 
your eye ! 

And, oh, I was glad ! and the whole world seemed glad 
to me! 
"Glad?" Why not glad, since I lived and loved you? 
And never a rift in the lute made life sad to me, 
And never a doubt flecked your eyes bonny blue ! 
Life was enchantment ! a dream ! and worth while ! 
When my soul spread its pinions and basked in 
your smile ! 

165 



ALL THE WORLD. 

Maid, do you recall the place 

Wliere the tortured waters race 

Downward, downward to the sea 

In an effort to be free? 

Roaring from huge stone to stone, 

Grumbling in a monotone 

In some hollow where, distressed, 

They have sought a moment^s rest? 

Maid, do you recall where you 
Sat and watched the varied hue 
Of the waters and the skies? 
Did you know that in your eyes 
Shone each tint of sky and stream? 
Ev'ry evanescent gleam 
Of the wild uncanny glen 
Shone from out your eyes again. 

166 



[All the World] 167 

They were there^ the sky's own blue, 
Little flecks of sunshine, too ; 
Ev'ry deep and grumbling pool, 
Umber shaded nooks and cool, 
Silver banded swaying birch, 
And the thrushes bending perch; 
All were there ; each vale and steep. 
All the torrents' rush and leap ! 

They were there — I know they were — 
Ev^ry slope of pine and fir; 
Ev'ry foam-white waterfall, 
For I saw them, saw them all ! 
And I never looked away 
From your dancing eyes that day ! 
All the world, my world, dear, lies 
In the deeps of your blue eyes ! 



MORE THAN ALL. 



When the night weighs down my ej^elids 'till I slumber, 

Then it seems 
Earthly bounds my weary spirit no more cumber, 

And in dreams 
I can see joii coming, coming with your hands out- 
stretched and glad; 
I can see the hills around us, and the valleys autumn- 
clad. 
And your eyes look into my ej^es with the same sweet 
look and glad, 

In my dreams. 

Then the night-time's velvet curtains softly falling 

Shut the day 
From my eyes, and I am happy. Softly calling 

Down the way 
Come remembered voices coaxing, there are voices from 

the glen 
Where the little tads went swimming, I can hear them 

laugh again; 
And I hear the waters gurgle as they used to gurgle then, 
That far day. 

168 



[More Than All] 169 

And I'm happy, more than happy, I can hear the 

Wild bird's call, 
And again I see you flitting, flitting near the 

Waterfall; 
More than perfume of sweet clover softly blowing from 

the lea, 
Stronger than the hills and valleys where I wandered 

wild and free, 
More, ah, more than dreams of boyhood is your memory 
to me! 

More than all ! 



THE HEART OF A MAID. 

I'm glad ! I^m glad ! Jest as doggone glad. 

As glad as a man kin be ! 
An' the times of old that I one time had 

Ain't spellin' a thing to me ! 
An' the world's all right as the world kin be ! 

An' she suits me mighty fine ! 
Fer I love the world an' the world loves me, 

An' the heart of a maid is mine! 

An' that's why I'm glad ! th' bird that swings 

On th' coffeeberry bush 
Don't know what happiness means, but sings 

When he might as well go hush ! 
For my heart's a-singin' a glad refrain 

That beats his singin' cold! 
It's a maid! jest a maid that my heart has ta'en, 

An' the tresses o' her are gold! 

170 



171 

[The Heart of a Maid] 

An' the maiden's eyes are just as blue 

As til' archin' rain-washed sky! 
An' the heart of the maid— ah, her heart is true !— 

And the promise that lights her eye 
Is a promise fair that shell joy to keep 

Through all the years may bring ! 
Oh, the birds may hush and may go to sleep, 

But my heart's too full of sing ! 

An' that's why I'm glad, so doggone glad ! 

For I've come into my own ! 
An' the dreams of the days 'at I one time had, 

And the longin's I knew are flown ! 
Oh, the heart of a maid is a wonderful gift ! 

An' to think that it's all, all mine! 
And the look that is mine when her shy eyes lift, 

God bless her ! is all divine ! 



A TOAST. 



To the land of red apples, 

The orchards and slopes; 
The land of my boyhood, 

Birthland of my hopes ; 
The land where wild grapevines 

Loop down in a swing. 
To the land of my loving. 

Where orioles sing ! 



Where apples are crushed 

In the press at the mill; 
Where night hears the plaint 

Of the lone whippoorwill ; 
And where the wide river 

In majesty iiows; 
To the land of my loving! 

The land of the rose ! 

172 



[A Toast] 173 

To the land of fair maidens, 

Blue eyes and gold hair ; 
Or brown eyes, or black eyes, 

Or dark maids, or fair, 
The land where the purple 

Sweet lilacs still blow; 
To the land of the sweethearts 

We loved long ago ! 



To the land where the highways 

Curve gracefully down 
To the green river valleys 

Far, far from the town; 
Where the sycamore bends 

Far across the still stream. 
To the land where each day 

Of my life was a dream! 

Then fill high your glasses 

And drain at a draught; 
To my birthplace, the land 

Where in childhood I laughed! 
Drink — drink in clear water! 

As sparkling as dew 
That gemmed the wide slopes 

That my babyhood knew. 



THE HAVEN. 



Out of the wild hurly-burly, 

Over the wide stretching miles, 
Out of the wrack of the storm-beaten seas, 

Into a harbor of smiles — 
Into a haven of necklacing arms — 

Out of life's tears and smart. 
Into the shine of your true blue eyes. 

Heart o' my love-lorn heart ! 



Out of the struggle and cark, now 

As wild as a bird and free. 
Winging afar through storm-beaten dark. 

Shaping life's course to thee; 
Into a haven of warm, clinging lips, 

Love o' my love-lorn breast ! 
Out of life's turmoil and jousts and wonnds, 

Into your arms and rest ! 

174 



175 

[The Haven] 

Out of life's kissless goodnights now, 

To the ripe red lips o' you ; 
Out of life's lowering storm-gray skies, 

To your true, true eyes and blue ; 
To a haven where, fingers interlaced, 

S'oul o' my love-lorn soul ! 
Two, just a man and a maid, shall sit 

Alone on a green clad knoll. 



Till the westering sun goes down. 

And the world's grim strife shall cease; 
Out of life's scars and caik and rue, 

Into your arms and peace ! 
Out of life's wind-blown, storm-flung wrack. 

And the speeding gray above, 
To a haven of clinging lips and arms 

And peace; of a perfect love. 



HARKING BACK. 



Who is not born to the woods and hills, 

He may not know, not know 
The ecstasy of the wild that thrills 

Each nerve when tempests blow. 
And the wild wind lashes the peaceful rills, 

And the tall old trees bend low ! 



The mariner on the wide, wide sea. 

When clouds and ocean meet. 
And spirits of air and sea, let free, 

Shake the plank beneath his feet. 
May feel, as he fights from the jagged lee. 

That to live and to fight is sweet! 

But he, whose feet through the trackless wild 
Have sped in the headlong chase. 

The free, untrammeled, the nature child, 
Whose living was in the race. 

May not forget through the years up-piled 
The ways it was his to trace ! 

176 



[Harking Back] 177 

And when the god of the storm fares forth 

And walks the world amain, 
And hoary trees whip the trembling earth, 

And deluge is on the plain, 
Ah ! his ferine sonl in the tempest's birth 

Comes back to its own again ! 

And forth on the headland, wild, unshorn. 

All naked, and all unshod. 
He stands, as when his wild soul was bom 

To the sentient, unthinking clod ; 
Or walks erect where the earth is torn 

With his face upturned to God! 



Ai^ IDOL TALE. 



Time when the earth was peopled by a squat-built race 
and broad, 

And out of the tusks of behemoth each carved his par- 
ticular god 

And bowed him before it in worship, and laid down be- 
fore it the things 

His untutored mind thought precious, gay plumagcd 
parrakeet's wings. 

And shells of prehistoric mollusks, and bones of the 
mammoth whereon 

He had scratched wdth a flint the wdiole story of deeds 
that his daring had done — 

Lived there a maid by a river in a cavern cut out of a 
hill. 

That her parents had made ere her coming, and fash- 
ioned with consummate skill 

Into chambers with ledges for sleeping, with a niche 
for their god on the side; 

A deity squat and bow-legged, big-bellied, obsidian- 
eyed; 

178 



\An Idol Tale] 179 

Before which the fruits of their hunting, their furs and 

their findings were laid, 
And where at each morn and each even in childi-]h 

abandon they prayed. 



Her grandparents scarce she remembered; they, long 

since weakened with eld. 
Had been taken as then was the custom and quickly an<3 

painlessly felled 
To the earth with the ponderous war-elub, and the 

sabre-to'oth gave them a grave. 
And they eluttered no more with their presence the 

shelves of the riverside cave; 
But we've wandered afar from the subject; the maid 

was a dream of delight. 
Her hair shone nov/ amber, now umber, her skin was of 

texture, and white. 
As ivory, scraped but unpolished, and velvety soft to the 

feel ; 
Just a creature of curves and no blemish, down from 

her head to her heel; 
And each foot a prehistoric marvel a sculptor would 

hunger to mold ! 
And her limbs were forever unfettered except for thin 

anklets of gold, 



180 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

And when in the sunlighted morning in the dark cav- 
ern's entrance she stood — ' 

Ah, well — wh}^ enlarge on her beauties ? To look on the 
maiden was good ! 



She was loved by a youth from Off Y-onder, who had 

found her one morn by the brink 
Of the unnamed prehistoric river where the maiden had 

gone for a drink; 
And they hand in hand had gone strolling away 'neafh 

umbrageous trees, 
Where he told the sweet maiden he loved her — I think 

he went down on his knees — 
And she by his love was transfigured; its glory shone 

forth from her face! 
When she smiled at the idol that evening it nearly fell 

off from its base! 
And her father spoke low to her mother, and her mother 

smiled back to her dad, 
And the child of the morn was a w^oman by night, and 

the world it seemed glad! 
And the youngster brought offerings to her, the tusks 

of the huge behemoth — 
But an old man, also from Off Yonder, looked on the 

youth's suit and was wroth; 



[An Idol Tale] 181 

And he was a man of ^'eat riches; his number of skins 

was unknown, 
And afar by a broad bigger river he had a big cave of 

his own. 



And he called the maid's father's attention to the items 

as herein set forth, 
And he wooed the whole family with vigor, for ev'ry 

tanned skin he was worth ! 
And they needed the wealth of the miser, the season had 

been one of dearth ; 
But once when he entered the cavern the idol crashed 

down to the earth ! 
And that was an omen of portent ! — crashed down as fi 

behemoth drops ! — 
(I think that the maid on the quiet had loosened the 

image's props!) 
Then her father reached back for a weapon, and poised 

it aloft with a leer 
And, before the old suitor could dodge it, discouraged 

his suit with a spear ! 
And the youth was called back and encouraged the maid 

of his loving to woo. 
And he wed the sweet maid the next morning with bar- 
baric rites and to-do; 



LILTS 0' LOYE. 



And he carved on a tusk the whole story as I have here 

writ it today; 
And it teaches the old world-old story, that love always 

will find a way. 



PARTING. 



The dust is on the highway 
That leads around and down, 

The footpath and the byway 
That lead away from town. 



The dust is on the highway 

And on the soul o' me; 
Oh, God o' love, that my way 

Should take me far from thee! 



Bu.t blythe will be the highway, 
Begirt with blooms and dew. 

Dear heart o' mine, when my way 
Shall lead me back to you. 



183 



AT THE BARS. 



Ain't yeh comin', comin', comin' ? 

I'm awaitin' by the bar,-. 
An' the katydids are strummin', 

An' the night is full o' stars, 
An' a perfumed breeze is blowin' 

Over medders wet with dew, 
Where the cattle are a-lo\^nn', 

An' I'm waitin' here for you ! 



An' my heart is jest a-singin', 

An' my soul is like a spark 
Of divine afflatus swingin' 

In a perfumed world an' dark; 
An' my feet are 'mongst the gTasses 

Where there never grows no rue, 
An' each vagrant breeze 'at passes 

Whispers somethin' sweet o' you ! 

184 



[At the Bars] 185 

Oh, but Love's a wondrous player, 

An' he strikes a million strings ! 
Each a sweet emotion swayer ! 

Each a throbbin' chord 'at sings! — 
Ain't yeh comin', comin', comin' ? 

I'm a-longin' where I wait, 
An' my heart is jest a drummin' 

At Love's blessed glory gait ! 



Oh, I couldn't live without yeh ! 

All my life is just o' you ! 
Oh, ter git my arms about yeh. 

An' ter ketch yer eyes o' blue 
Lookin' up ter mine a-shinin' 

Like they do an' useter do ! 
Ain't yeh comin' ? I'm a-pinin', 

Waitin' at the bars for you ! 



THE AMULET. 



Once in an age long forgotten — 

When the years that man counted did run 
Till the time of his dying was distant 

From the time when his living begun, 
Was so distant his years were a thousand, 

As compared with our three score and ten — 
Did a man woo the maid of his fancy, 

Who lived far away in a glen 
Where a torrent leaped down from a mountain. 

And where, o'er the torrent that played, 
Hung a rainbow from dawn until darkness ; 

Hung arched o'er the home of the maid. 



And, ah, but he loved the maid truly ! 

Had loved her since she was a child; 
Had met her when only a hundred 

He found the wee elf running wild; 
Just a hundred short summers ; imagine ! 

And when she was sick unto death, 

186 



[Jlie A)nulet] 187 

He had dared the deep ooze of the bogland, 

Had dared e'en the pestilent breath 
Of the fissures where, cracked and asunder, 

Earth gaped, and her internal fires 
Spread a mist that hung low in the valleys, 

A mist that, once breathed, man expires. 



He sought in the slime and the quakings 

The haunt where the saurian lies — 
Young Nature's web-footed abortion 

With slime-dripping jaws, and with eyes 
That lidless looked up to the heavens. 

And whose bulk was as monstrous and vast 
As the hill where he'd romped in his childhood, 

And whose shadow each evening was cast 
Dark o'er the wide mouth of the cavern 

Where he slept the sweet slumber of youth — 
But now all of that lay behind him ; 

Before him the saurian's tooth. 



For he knew in the brain of the monster 
Lay a stone which, possessed by him then, 

Would recall to the cheeks of the maiden 
The roses she'd lost once again. 

And so marched he out to do battle, 
His weapon a dagger of jade. 



188 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

But first to a tusk-carven image 
In humility knelt he and prayed; 

Then arose, felt his body all over, 

Tried each muscle and sinew; at length 

Satisfied, he strode forth in his manho'od, 
Clothed only in faith in his strength — 

Strode forth to the lair of the reptile; 

Tossed his curls from his forehead and laughed ; 
Now smiled at some fond reminiscence; 

Now gripped his jade knife by the haft; 
Now leaped o'er the stones in his pathway; 

Now the thong, holding fast to his wrist 
The blade, had a meed of attention ; 

Now thoughts of red lips he had kissed — 
By the bone-carven image he'd prayed to ! 

By the strength of his manhood's delight! 
Must he fight for the amulet! win it! 

For the maid 'of his loving ere night! 

And so, midst the quaking morasses. 
He paused by an inky-black pool; 

And sudden spewed forth from earth's vileness 
Eyes lidless and lank jaws a-drool; 

Upreared came the head of the monster, 
Drawn forth by the odor of meat, 



-ion 
[The Amulet] 

And there stood a man ! stood and mocked him ! 

What would you? E'en reptiles must eat. 
And so from the inky morasses 

Its vast, loathsome bulk slowly drags. 
Now it's all hut o'ertaken its quarry, 

Whose step seems to falter, and lags. 

It's bulk hath dragged heavy behind it 

Along where its quarry hath led, 
Till the earth where he stops to give battle 

Is firm as a rock to the tread. 
The loathsome head stoops for the morsel, 

Lips livid, fangs bared— then a spring ! 
And quick the man stabs ! then offspringing 

Sees the monster a-writhe with the sting. 
One eye hath been blinded forever. 

And, ere his huge bulk he can turn. 
The knife biting deep at its fellow 

To the brain of the monster doth burn. 



It was nothing to call for applauding; 

Merely triumph of brain over brawn ; 
Merely love drawing man to its service, 

As the arrow the bowstring hath drawn; 
But swift flew he back to the maiden, 

The amulet held to his breast. 



190 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

Once again saw the tide of life quicken 
The cheek where his lips had caressed; 

And what could the maid but reward him? 
And she gave him her hand, as you guess. 

But the}'- didn't live happy forever — 
Only eight hundred years, more or less. 



EX;PANSIO:^'S PIONEER. 

Lay him on far Mindoro's slopes where last his life- 
blood ran, 

Above where whitecapped surges stir the bay of Paluan ; 

Set no carven stone above him, there are few to care or 
weep, 

Tnough a brown girl in Batangas softly calls him in 
her sleep. 

He'd a girl at Bai Lake, 
And another's heart will break 
Where the waters of Pampamga reflect back the tropic 
sky, 

And a maiden in Samar 
Gets no joy from her cigar; 
But no loved one weeps above him, or shall know where 
he doth lie. 

He has drank, drank deep of vino, in the far Antiki 

range, 
And has kissed bare brown-skinned babies, and has 

taught them curses strange. 
And he wed a girl in Negros, and swore fealty to two 
When he camped within the stronghold of the Sultan of 

Sulu. 

191 



192 LILTS 0' LOVE. 

When a man is forced to roam 
Far beyond the ocean's foam 
He is apt to leave his morals where they're safe and 
play the rogue; 

And in cool sequestered shades 
Of Louisiana's glades, 
There be many yellow Ethiops who sport an Irish 
brogue. 

But no soldier in Mindoro or at home is like to blame — 
Pick your soldiers as you find them, they are all the 

world the same ; 
And the Moro of the future, will he be less loyal, say; 
If his hide's a lighTer yellow, and his eyes are blue or 

gray? 



But they're leaving him alone. 
And perhaps it will atone 
That his voice was loud in battle as his voice was soft 
to woo; 

Where the battle's fury played 
There he went and there he stayed. 
And his gun was first in action and red hot when he 
was through. 



[Expansion's Pioneer] 193 

He was just expansion's prophet in his weak and humble 

way, 
And the land is full of orphans from Bauban to far 

Panay ; 
And, though none shall watch above him where at last 

he takes his ease, 
Many widows wait his coming in the islands of the seas. 



THE RAINY SEASOI^. 

Talk to me of tropic islands floating in an opal sea — 
Oh, the song that Romance sang to me was sweet — 
And of shady nook and fastness in a snow-capped moun- 
tain's lee, 
And of brandy-colored bro'oks that cool your feet; 
But the tamarack and pine woo this homesick heart of 
mine, 
And the green and golden maples beck and call; 
And tonight I'd like to be where they sit and write 
to me. 
I can shut my eyes and revel in it all. 

There's a devil in each tentrope, and it whips and tears 
and hauls ; 
And the flagstaff on parade ground whips the earth ! 
And each cloud pours out its contents like a thousand 
waterfalls — ■ 
Just one life is more than all of it is worth — 
And the rainy season's on, and from Cebu to Luzon 

The country's under water to our ears ! 
Spite of all that we can do, we are soaking through and 
throu£'h. 
And the plague will grip our vitals ere it clears ! 

194 



[The Bainy Season] 195 

Naked dirty yellow babies get beneath our feet and 
sprawl — 
Oil, the little homemade babies we have kissed ! 
And our rations are so soggy that they stink and fairly 
crawl ! 
Is it strange that soldiers seldom re-enlist? 
And there's mildew 'on our shoes, and the hardtack 
that we use 
Is so moldy that it breaks our homesick heart; 
And the khaki that we wear falls away and leaves us 
bare — 
It's so rotten that It pulls itself apart ! 

Oh, my vision sketched an houri of voluptuous embrace, 

But the only houri I have seen till now 
Was splay-footed, squat and flabby, with a cheroot in 
her face. 

And tattoo marks hid her beefy cheeks and brow ! 
Oh, we thought 'Our country called, and our hearts were 
ribbed and walled, 

Till the pleadings of our loved ones failed to stir. 
And we'd like to make it clear if we go to death out here 

'Tisn't for their measly thirteen dollars per. 



THE LUEE OF SPRING. 

Let us quit the carking city, quit its smotlier and its 

dust, 
Quit the scramble for the dollar, leave its greed and 

crime and lust; 
There are daisy fields and clover fields that beckon you 

and me, 
And a rocky river lilting on its journey to the sea. 

Won't you put your hand in my hand just the way yxi 

used to do? 
Won't you let me choose a pathway, a bloom-bordered 

way for you? 
There are purple tufted thistles, there are honey-laden 

bees 
Way out yonder calling to us, there are whispers from 

the trees. 

Get your bonnet, for we're going; let me tie its ribbon 

strings ; 
There's a mocking-bird off yonder looking our way 

while he sings ; 
There's an old zig-zaggy foot-path scrambling down a 

rocky cliff 
Where a broad and placid river waits our coming with a 

skiff. 

196 







THERE ARE DAISY FIELDS AND CLOVER FIELDS THAT BECKON YOU AND ME. 
AND A ROCKY RIVER LILTING ON ITS JOURNEY TO THE ShA. 



[The Lure of Spring] 197 

Hold your dimpled chin up higher — now ! There, that'a 

a lover^s knot; 
You recall the day back yonder? You recall the clover 

lot? 
You recall the summer sunshine and the wild bee^s lazy 

drone, 
And the river calling to us as we sat there all alone ? 



Let's get out and leave the city^ leave the working to the 

bee; 
Let's go out across the meadows where the winds ace 

wild and free ; 
Yellow jasmine and wild daisies and forgetmenots are 

there, 
And I'll find a wildwood blossom for a jewel for your 

hair. 



And we'll go out — wander way out — far as ever we can 

go. 
Just as vagrant in our fancies as the perfumed winds 

that blow 
Over miles of clover blossoms, and we'll sing and we'll 

forget 
In our laughing and our loving that we are not children 

yet. 



ORDERS. 

All we knew was it was orders^ and each of us packed 
his kit, 
And we marched down to Manila, where the (Coast- 
wise transport lay. 
We'd seen service in Mindoro an' had marched an' swum 
an' fit 
From Bulalakao nortlrard clear to Varadero bay. 

But it is'nt what you've done, 
N'or the dangers you have run — 
It's the orders that they give jou and the task you're 
set to do; 

It's the sounding reveille 
Ere the breaking of the day ; 
It's the boarding of the transport and a-going south 
for you. ' 

If you've been in Mindanao you have got a sort of 
know, 
Of the way the transport followed down and past 
Marinduque — 

198 



[ Orders] 199 

How we dodged the Cuyos islands and kept tacking to 
and fro, 
Till our path lay straight before us down across the 
Sulu sea. 

If 3^ouVe got your orders south, 
Needn^t tighten up your mouth, 
Needn't feel no hot rebellion in your inwards twist an' 
burn. 

You can't even say good bye 
To Querida on the sly — 
Not a farewell look an' lovin' from them big brown eyes 
o' her'n. 

As I said, we'd swept Mindoro side to side, an' up an' 
down, 
An' our regiment had battled in Negros and in Cebu ; 
We had planted Irish Casey in Samar and burned the 
town, 
An' done battle with the chol'ry, but it seemed we 
wasn't through ! 

For a duck in Bacalod 
Was a-needin' of a prod. 
An' had said in his own lingo what meant "Didn't give 
a dam !" 

That no khaki-colored troop 
Couldn't put him "in the soup." 
An' had shook his dingy shirttail in the face of Uncle 
Sam. 



200 LILTS 0' LOYE. 

An' I will say this mucli for him — naked shanked an' 
brown an' slim, 
An' without a decent weepon ner a breastwork worth 
a cuss — 
He was with us from the minute we unlimbered an' 
went in; 
An' alth'ough we socked it to 'im, still he got a few 
of us. 

An' we turned his spirit loose. 
But, doggone it, what's the use ? 
We're a nation big and hefty, with the latest st3de o' 
Krag. 

He was ig'rant an' alone. 
In a yard he thought his own, 
An,' doggone it, we was big enough ter let 'im have 
his brao^. 



But he's pacified an' planted, while we're shy of Pitts- 
burg Joe 
An' two 'Others, Freckles Sanders an' our f av'rite, Ser- 
geant Klem, 
Who were figgerin' on Christmas, but their orders come 
to go, 
And there won't no Christmas boxes ever find their 
way to them. 



[Orders] 201 

An' fer us, at Liangan, 

We are quartered to a man, 
Sorter doin' watchdog duty here beneath an alien sky; 

An' the Christmas gifts from friends, 

Ev'ry thing our loved ones sends, 
Will be sidetracked at Manila an' won't reach us till 
July. 



HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT FOR. 

We set around at night an' talk, we march an' talk by 

day. 
An' it seems like him that talks the most has got the 

least to say; 
We dream of home back in the States, and j'oy is in our 

dream. 
Then we wake up away out here an' — God ! we almost 

scream ! 

It's ^^expansion," just "expansion" that we hear. 
And we talk, and talk, an' talk to make it clear ; 

But the soldier can't tell why 

He is shipped away to die ; 
Nor couldn't if he argued things a year. 

In the little old pueblos there are women fat an' lean; 

There is Texas Joe's querida, she is barely turned thir- 
teen; 

An' some of these mestizos are as white as you and me; 

But our dreams are full o' visions of the girls beyond 
the sea. 

202 



[He Doesn't Knotv What For] 203 

If a fellow goes and marries one o' these, 
An' has little yellow kids around his knees, 

It's expansion, more or less, 

But it ain't no fun, I guess, 
Wlien he dreams of that there girl across the seas. 



But shall our lives be loveless just because we're far 

away, 
When perhaps 'Our death's awaitin' in the jungles o' 

Panay ? 
If a silken brownskinned baby smiled at you with eyes 

a-gleam. 
Then vvould you forbear to hug 'er, and be faithful to a 

dream ? 

We have argued pro and con, till we are sick. 
And have pacified some brown men double quick; 

But where they were pacified 

Some of our own men have died, 
An' we can't tell why we're called to do the trick. 

But there's trouble in Mindoro, an' we'll land at Man- 

salai, 
March through feverish morasses, droppin', droppin' by 

the way, 
Givin' up our lives an' country fer a nasty little war — 
And ter save their souls from burnin' not a soldier 

knows what for! 



FANCY AND MEMORY. 



Ah, ^viho of us all that when day hath flown, 

And he sits in the night-time, and all alone, 

Can shepherd his thoughts, his fancies guide 

To a far-off future, where, side by side. 

The liopes of his living fruition bear, 

And the joys of his hoping seem near and fair? 

Yecc, who of us all hath strength to cast 
The curtain down that shall hide the past; 
And say to his memory : "Bide ye here ! 
The past hath gTaves, and the past is drear; 
Let Fancy her pinions preen for flight, 
And Memory sleep thro' the murky night?" 

For Fancy doth know of no last farewell; 

Nor knoweth she aught of a funeral knell ; 

She leadeth one laughing where skies are blue, 

To the land of one's longing where dreams come true, 

Where red japonicas light the gloom 

And breezes are heavy with sweet perfume. 

204 



[Fancy and Memory] 205 

Ah, red japonicas ! glowing warm ! 

That light up the glo'om where the fireflies swarm. 

Ah, the jessamine white and roses red 

That hang o'er the paths we were wont to tread — 

Ah, Fancy hath flown, but Memory stays, 

And we're walking again in the dear old ways. 



And here's to you. Memory ! here's to you ! 
You know of the paths we have wandered through; 
l^ou know of the lips that have smiled and passed, 
And you know of the pleasures too sweet to last! 
You know of life's joys transcending pain — 
Ah, Memory ! bring back the past again ! 



TO TODAY'S BRIDE. 

This the last day; 

Your girlhood goes 
As the pink petals of the rose 
The perfumed breath 

Of autuirm sends 
In a glad gust, that spreads and blends 
A moment with earth, sky and air, 
And then remains not anywhere. 

This the last day 

Before there -opes 
To your young feet the gate of hopes 
Of happiness; 

May there no rue 
Beyond its threshold wait for you! 
Glad-eyed you stand with lips apart, 
Love's sunshine throbbing in your heart. 

Ah, you are good ! 

And sweet and fair ! 
Earth holds no other anywhere, 
This day of days, 

To match with you ! 
Life waits you, hands out-stretched ! and blue 
The skies arch over ! Day of gold ! 
May today's gladness ne'er grow old ! 

206 



UNIVERSALLY APPROVED 

■"SING THE SOUTH" 

BY JUDD MORTIMER LEWIS 

It is the kind of jingle that gets you by the heartstrings, 
and you find your eyes swimming and your throat ' * choking up ' ' 
as you turn the pages. They appeal to one because they are 
as true to life, both in expression and sentiment, as it is pos- 
sible to make them, and the simplicity and sweetness running 
through every poem warms the heart of the reader toward the 
writer. — Los Angeles Express. 

I hear the patter of baby feet along the hallways, and feel 
the touch of sweetest baby fingers along each line as I 
read. God bless you, Lewis! You have scattered many a big 
handful of flowers along your pathway to be gathered and 
enjoyed by people who have no flowers of their own. — K. 
Lamity 's Hm-poon. 

Here is a volume of verse by a Southern man, Judd Morti- 
mer Lewis, whose poetry is for all ages, classes and condi- 
tions, because of the human heart-note in it all. Lewis's are 
not born to increase the census, and it is probable that it will 
be long before, even out of the prolific soil of the Southland, 
shall come another whose muse is so filled with moral sweet- 
ness and beauty. — Syracuse Herald. 

There is a smile or a tear, a pean of joy or a love note of 
sorrow, in every line he writes. — Cleveland News. 

Has a new Eugene Field arisen in the South? It seems 
so, and his name is Judd Mortimer Lewis. Like Field, Lewis 
is in his happiest and most tearful vein — strange paradox — 
when he is singing about children. His lines have a delicious 
swing and fine sentiment — so much so that Lewis is hailed 
today by a large constituency as the South 's most popular 
poet. His poems sing, and the music they make rings grate- 
fully in the memories of all who hear their message. He 
kindles lost fires in one's heart anew. — Portland Oregonian. 



MOV 21 1906 



His poems reveal a spirit in unison with the laws of life, 
at peace with all mankind, and arc keenly alive with the spirit 
of hope and love. — Birmingham Neivs. 

There is a note of sincerity, of imagination, of sympathy, 
or humor throughout the poems which will win them friends. — 
Grand Bapids Press. 

The verses are sweet and true. There is a tenderness that 
wins, a harmony that enthralls throughout. One cannot open 
the book even at random without finding a real gem. — 
Louisville Courier-Journal. 

His kinship to the scenes, the sights and the sounds of na- 
ture, are the predominating characteristics of his verse, which 
is attuned to the harmonies of the human heart. — Oakland 
Tribune. 

The poems are gems and will appeal to all. — LouisvilU 
Times. 

Sing the South is a volume of poems from the versatile 
Lewis' pen, and they are excellent. — St. Louis Mepublic. 

It is rare that a volume of songs of such sweetness and 
beauty as these comes to our table. — Nashville American. 

It is a volume of love, laughter and song which will delight 
lovers of the kind of poetry that appeals to the heart. — Colum- 
bus (0.) Press. 

Mr. Lewis is the Eugene Field of the Southland. — Pitts- 
burgh Dispatch. 

Everybody who likes good verse poured straight from the 
heart will find much here to please and touch them. — Eich- 
mond (Vet.) Times. 

There is such a spirit of hopefulness and good cheer in 
the book as makes it an ideal gift. — New Yorlc Editor and 
Publisher. 

When another Eugene Field and James Whitcomb Eiley 
rises up to complete the American Trinity, we lift our hats and 
hail him heartiest welcome. You have done good, great good, 
and we need you, Judd Mortimer Lewis — the world needa 
you. — Joaquin Miller. 



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